The Seventh Turn
by MissSnakeyBoots
Summary: The war is about to end but Draco Malfoy isn't happy with the final turn of events. He alters the past and finds out how things could have been. However, was all of this meant to be, and can Draco really solve his problems with dark magic?
1. One

**The Seventh Turn**

Well here it is: the edited and chaptered version of The Seventh Turn I should have uploaded to begin with. My apologies, but I was far too excited that I'd even managed to finish a story let alone spell it right. I would like to thank HARRYPOTTERlovesDRACOMALFOY for sitting tirelessly at her laptop to fix my mistakes and split 45,266 words into what I believe is 18 or 19 chapters.  
I have directly quoted from the books in several areas and no copyright infringement is intended. I am writing for entertainment purposes only.  
Enjoy the show...

**o*o**

"Where the hell did you come from?"  
"The future, the present, the past. I don't bloody know anymore." Draco sighed. "More importantly, didn't anyone ever tell you not to mess with time?"

**o*o**

* * *

_**1**  
_

Draco's breakthrough (of sorts) came about at the very last minute on the upstairs landing of the Entrance Hall. He'd watched Crabbe die, escaped (been rescued) from the Room Of Requirement with his life (just) and was now being cornered by a Death Eater who's eyes were full of a rather psychotic hunger. It was perhaps the first moment in which he realized he really had backed the wrong side.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm Draco, I'm on your side!" he insisted, though about ten minutes ago, he'd said the same to a young Gryffindor boy half his size. Merlin, he really was pathetic. The Death Eater was either deaf, foreign or well and truly didn't care. He encroached further, his face twisted as he pondered which horribly contorted curse he would use. That was one of the many drawbacks of Death Eaters, Draco thought hopelessly. They had very little loyalty and often a perverted thirst for blood.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, red light flew past his eyes, tickling the hairs on his face and startling him as the advancing Death Eater crumpled to the floor. He was saved! He looked about him, trying to find his hero when something hit him-very hard-in the face. His vision exploded in stars as he fell backwards onto the Death Eater. He felt his lip split open. "And that's the second time we've saved your life tonight you two faced bastard." spat the invisible voice that Draco recognized as Weasley's.

It probably wasn't him who cast the stunning spell, Draco thought, lying sprawled on the floor atop his potential attacker. No doubt it was Potter, who seemed to have a funny habit of saving his arse.

Draco closed his eyes and wondered if he'd be mistaken for a corpse, and left alone. He tried for a moment, breathing shallow breaths and keeping very still, but thoughts of Potter trampling the school in his invisibility cloak risking his life began to plague him. For the second time that night, he felt alien feelings of remorse, guilt and shame brewing within him like an offensive stew. They were most unwelcome.

Opening his eyes, he saw a door ahead of him. He knew that door. He had opened it in first year and been scolded by Filch for trespassing in broom cupboards. He had argued it was his right to explore his surroundings as a growing child. Of course he'd almost been shackled upside down and beaten. In third year, he had pushed a first year boy in there with Crabbe and Goyle's assistance and laughed at his piteous cries for help. That was four year ago. Crabbe had died tonight.

Draco struggled to his feet, stumbling slightly. Blood dribbled from his lip down his chin and over his shirt. He blinked unsteadily, slightly concerned about it. People probably weren't going to be looking at him tonight, he reasoned. Anyway, his shirt was black. Hurrying as the noise of a nearby duel reached his ears; Draco slunk towards the familiar door and pulled it open, slipping inside.  
Yes, he thought, he'd be quite safe here.

The magnified words of Voldemort reached Draco's ears in the darkness.

"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran way, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof your hero is gone."

Perhaps, Draco thought, hysteria bubbling to the surface like a steaming cauldron, he was still asleep. He was almost certain he'd nodded off...

"The battle is won. You have lost half your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle, now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

Draco did not move from his hiding place. He would not kneel. There would never be a world worth living in again and he would certainly not help build it. It had taken him seven years and Harry's death for him to rebel, and the best stand he could take was refusing to come out of his cupboard.

It was common knowledge really: Draco Malfoy was no fighter. Currently, he was crouched in a broom cupboard with his lip bleeding over his shirt, trembling like the coward he was. No, Draco had never been very brave. Perhaps that was why someone like Harry Potter was their hero. Perhaps that's why he had died for them. Perhaps that was one of the many conflicting reasons why Draco loved him.

Thought he loved him.

He coughed. Dust from the collapsing castle and the smoke from the Fiendfyre had filled his lungs, making him feel worn and tenuous. How long ago had that been? Was it an hour since his arms had held Potter tightly as he saved his life in the Room of Requirement? It felt like a distant memory.

A scream from outside sent chills down his spine and the cold reality of the situation began to sink in. His parents would be worried about him, if they were still alive that is. Their eyes would be scanning the gathering crowd outside for his shock of pale hair. They would take his absence in the courtyard as proof that he lay dead somewhere in the castle. They'd cling to one another, his mother would wail, a muscle in his father's jaw would begin to twitch.

Rather selfishly, he didn't care. What was the point anyway, if Harry was dead? Draco would have to come out of his cupboard and live under Voldemort's reign. The worst part was that he helped achieve this. Not that he had done much really, the one task of killing Dumbledore he had been given he had failed miserably at. Nevertheless, that wasn't the point. He'd taken a mark of allegiance and stood with the people who wanted this.

Well get this. He wasn't coming out.

Draco's trembles grew to near convulsions. He would stay here forever. No he wouldn't, he was being irrational. Digging his nails into his palms he tried to focus. There was another option. He could do something. He could put right every last regret that was flickering through his mind as he awaited death or a life of misery. He could act.

Harry Potter had died at the hands of a man who stopped at nothing to gain power. Whether this was because of a stupid prophecy or just cruel chance, it didn't matter. He could not die. Not because he was the only chance the Wizarding world had at defending themselves from Voldemort. Not because he was their hero or their saviour, but because he was a boy. He was Harry Potter: a wizard, a Quidditch fan, someone who struggled with Potions and hated exams. For goodness sake, Draco had seen him with odd socks on in the corridor. Once, he'd even gone to put his glasses on upside down in Herbology. Like all the innocent people who had fought to prevent their world being torn apart, he hadn't deserved to die.

It might have struck Draco as bizarre to be having this revelation in broom cupboard when a war was ending outside, but he was already wide-eyed in the darkness with anticipation. Harry Potter needed help. Harry Potter could have been helped more than once over the past seven years. Dead as he was now, seven years ago, Harry Potter's escapade had only just begun.

He pressed his back against the rough wall of the cupboard and fumbled beneath his torn robes and filthy shirt. His hand clawed at the chain warmed by his skin. How his skin was warm, Draco did not know. He felt as though he had been filled with icy water. Draco pulled the chain out of his shirt and clutched his last hope: a time turner.

When his father had pressed the chain into his hand a few days before Draco had been shocked.

"I thought-"

"Not all of them. Perhaps a handful remain, and this one," Lucius had said, lowering his voice and gripping his son's shoulder, "This one will be your second chance.

"Seven years should be enough to rewrite the wrongs." Draco was shocked by his father's candidness. He was literally acknowledging the fact that every choice he had made for his son had been one for worse. Draco actually laughed. "Seven years? How many spins will that take?"

"This," Lucius said, suddenly anxious as he pressed the chain, "is warped with magic. Strong magic."  
"Of the darkest kind no doubt."

His father turned away and rubbed his face, running a hand over the stubble. Draco had stared down at the time turner and wondered how soon he'd have to use it.

There were explosions outside, Draco could hear them ringing off the courtyard walls. Light from spells flickered under the door. It was very much now or never, Draco told himself. And if you want to save Potter's fat head you have to do it now.

Struggling to ignore the noise outside, he focused the remaining energy he possessed on the complexity of the time turner. He took it in his trembling fingers and began mentally reciting what he had been told.

Draco began to twist the hourglass on its thin chain.

A turn for each year, a complicated spell spoken word perfectly for the time and the place. This was harder than any exam he had ever sat, but more than his grades depended on him getting this right. He battled on and desperately tried not to muddle his words. It was working!

The broom cupboard began to dissolve around him, the sounds of spell-fire grew distant and faintly, he thought he could hear people crying out to him. Not now, he thought, I'm going. Concentrating with all his might as a sweat broke on his brow, the salt stinging his wounds, Draco completed the spell and turned the hourglass for the seventh time.

He landed firmly in one of the swaying carriages of the Hogwarts Express. He felt nauseated at the sight he had laid eyes on seven years ago; the warm lighting and the snug compartments: so far from where he had come. Draco took a sharp hold of himself as one of those compartment doors slid open. He threw himself into the toilet and banged the door shut behind him, opening it a crack to see who had appeared.

There he was. Eleven years old, pale skin, slick hair and an expression of hauteur that was yet to be wiped off his face. The young Draco Malfoy, closely followed by a younger Crabbe and Goyle, both as huge as Draco had remembered them being, left their compartment and peered through the glass of the neighbouring ones, looking for the famous Harry Potter.

Draco was about to change history.


	2. Two

_**2**_

"Here." The young Draco hissed, gesturing to his cronies, his face lit up with delight at the sight of the jet black hair and glasses through one of the glass doors. Draco remembered the feeling all too well himself. This time, however, he wasn't going to botch it up.

Draco raised his wand and whispered "Imperio."

A blank expression took over his younger counterpart's face. He looked as though he'd forgotten who he was. Crabbe and Goyle stared at him, baffled. "You two can go and wait back in our compartment," said the young Draco in an airy voice. Crabbe and Goyle would definitely have given off a bad impression at the original meeting, Draco decided. Any scrawny child that lopes around with a pair of body guards is going to look bad. Both boys looked sour at this. "It's very important." the young Draco coaxed them. Draco focused from his vantage point in the toilet. He couldn't falter. Crabbe and Goyle shrugged and mooched grouchily back down the train, disappearing from whence they came. The young Draco knocked on the compartment door and slid it open. This was it.

"Hello." Draco made him say as he could think of nothing else.

"Hi." he heard Potter reply rather coldly. There was a grunt – Weasel no doubt. "Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you is it?"

"Yes." he heard the young Harry say.

"I wanted to apologize, for being rude when I first met you. I'm afraid I gave off a rather poor first impression."

"You apologizing because you know who he is?" Ron demanded.

"No." the young Malfoy retorted a little too waspishly. He really shouldn't rise to eleven year old Weasley. There was silence from the compartment, If only Draco could see Harry's face.

"My name's Draco. Draco Malfoy." he made himself say in a placid tone. This time he heard Weasley snort.

"Yeah laugh." said young Draco. "You've probably heard a lot about the Malfoy's."

Harry's silence was beginning to unnerve Draco; he was so bull-headed he'd probably already decided to hate Draco forever.

"A lot of bad stuff." Weasley retorted.  
Oh bugger off Freckle-Face, Draco thought to himself. He made his eleven year old self sigh. "Unfortunately."

Draco wondered what to do next. What could he say to make everything right? What could he say to ensure that Potter would trust him for seven years?  
Nothing.

"I -" his young self hesitated as Draco did. This was ridiculous. There was nothing he could do to right the hellish nightmare of the future. How was he supposed to make Potter like him? Give him a valuable ally? It was worth a shot. He spoke desperately through his young self, imagining Harry's face, young and care-free, bright with the excitement of leaving his hideous muggle family behind. "I know what you've been through, I've heard about it, I mean and ... I just wanted to say, I-I think all that is more important than the scar on your forehead."

It was a senseless, stammering attempt that was sure to do nothing for Draco's chances. He'd probably just earned himself a reputation as a weirdo too. There was more silence, aching and unbearable, then the unexpected happened. Harry got up and stood opposite young Draco. From his hiding place, Draco could now see the dark hair, the juvenile features, those bright eyes...

Harry Potter held out his hand for the young Draco to shake. He offered his own hand! Draco's breath caught in his throat and his quivering hand held the wand that made his young self take it and shake it firmly.  
"I'll be in Slytherin no doubt." his young self said. "I'm hoping I don't live up to its expectations."

Draco knew his younger self's face would be blank and near expressionless but he hoped that somehow Harry would see the meaning behind his words.

"Excuse me." said his younger self and he walked back down the train.

Potter watched him go, a curious expression on his face. As soon as he had closed the compartment door again and young Draco had reached the toilet, Draco broke the spell and pounced like a snake from the darkness. He flew out of the door, covered the eyes of his junior and hauled him backwards into the toilet, slamming the door shut behind him. Back to himself, Young Draco let out a strangled cry and struggled desperately.

"Be still." Draco hissed into his ear, keeping a hand over Young Draco's eyes and a hand over his mouth. "Listen closely you little brat."

He waited for his counterpart to settle. Furious at being mysteriously hijacked, he kicked and spat fiercely. Eventually he stood still and Draco could feel the hand covering the eyes of his younger self grow damp as he cried. What a sad act he had put on all his life. _I'm Draco Malfoy, out of my way._ Then cry when things don't go to plan. How bloody pathetic.

"If I could somehow show you the horror of the future, I would. Unfortunately, you're going to have to do this the hard way."  
Young Draco spluttered against his palm, but Draco's hand muffled the sound. "I'm going to take my hand away Malfoy, but if you scream, I will kill you. Do you understand me?"

Draco knew he was trembling just as much as his eleven year old self and he couldn't kill anyone if he tried. He'd discovered this already. Despite this he fought to keep his voice steady and threatening. Young Draco thought for a moment then nodded.

"Now don't do anything stupid, or you'll be dead before anyone reaches you."

Slowly, Draco let his hand fall away. Young Draco was silent. He kept a firm grip on his torso to stop him from turning around. Taking steadying breaths, Draco began. "Right...Okay, Harry Potter. What are your thoughts on him?"

Draco knew the answer already of course, but it was important he heard them from his past self. For a moment it seemed Young Draco wasn't going to answer. Then, in a quivering voice he spoke. "A big-headed dung face."

"Grow up." Draco spat. "And stop lying."

Young Draco bristled. "How can I be wrong? It's what I think!" His young self hissed back. "Who are you to tell me what to do? You don't know me!"  
"Yes I do." Draco spat, leaning close to the back of young Draco's head. "I know exactly what you think of him. You can pretend all you like."

Young Draco fell silent again.

"He fascinates you."  
Draco was surprised by the force of the kick his younger self aimed at his shin. He winced, but continued undeterred. "Ever since that day in Madame Malkin's you've remembered his eyes, his sticky up hair and no-" he added quickly as he felt young Draco stir defensively. "Not because you're jealous or because you think he's stupid-looking. Everything you've been told about him haunts you. You sit there at the breakfast table, thinking of him. You can't believe he was treated the way he was by those Muggles, you can't imagine losing your parents and growing up without magic, you're in awe of his modesty and humbleness and you wish you had friends like his; real friends of all kinds, of all blood types. You wish it didn't matter to you either..."

Young Draco let out a sob and Draco tutted. "Man up Draco." he said more softly.

There was no reply as young Draco wept silently, his shoulders heaving. "You don't need to answer Me." he whispered, almost to himself. "I know I'm right."

The train rattled and swayed as it moved through the country, nearing Hogwarts: a place where everyone was safe from all kinds of harm except the kind they inflicted on themselves and all demons but their own.

"Please listen to that voice in your head." Draco begged. "The one that appears now and again and tells you what you've been taught to believe all your life is wrong."  
Young Draco sniffed.

"Harry Potter is a friend worth having Draco Malfoy. You could make a difference. For once."

He handed young Draco some toilet paper, still gripping his shoulder firmly to keep him from turning to face him.

"Who are you?" Young Draco demanded, rubbing his eyes furiously.

"I'm your own worst enemy." Draco whispered back, and with that, he opened the sliding door and pushed Draco out. "Don't be a coward." he said, shutting the door just as Young Draco whipped around to catch a glimpse of his abductor. "Be brave!" Draco shouted.

Unfortunately, the train had barely left Platform 9 and ¾, and although Draco had given himself enough time, he had no other option but to lurk in the toilet for the rest of the journey.

This rather killed his adrenaline rush.

Hours later, when it was silent and Draco had almost lost his mind, he strained to listen through the door. The excited chatter had faded away. Draco slid open the compartment door, he didn't want to be on the train as it began its trip back to London. Taking out his wand, he slipped into the carriage of the train, and crept hurriedly towards the door. He didn't have much time to get back to the broom cupboard he had first left.

As he was about to open the door, he caught sight of his darkened reflection in the window. His appearance was stark against the warm welcoming interior of the Hogwarts express. His hair fell into his eyes, his face was filthy and scratched, and the cut on his lip had bled down his chin and onto his stained shirt and several rips had made their way through Draco's clothes.

Opening the door quickly, Draco stumbled from the train just as it began to chug away from the station back to London. Then he streaked towards Hogwarts.  
This proved a tremendous struggle as Draco hadn't exerted himself in a few years. At some point he had swapped his broom for a life lurking in corridors and reading books in the alcoves of his manor, out of sight. He reached the gates, panting and breathless as the last stragglers of older students rode in carts up to the castle. Draco stopped, horrified and saw that the carts that had once being drawn by some invisible force were now being led by skeletal beasts.

He wracked his brains for some scrap of knowledge about these creatures, but his memory failed him. Draco watched as one spread its gossamer, bat like wings. A girl cried out in surprise and Draco flew into the bushes, but she too had only been surprised by the creatures.

"What are they?" she squealed. Her friend tutted in a patronizing manner. "Remember that man you saw die in your work experience this summer?" he said. "Well these are Thestrals, only visible to those who've seen death."

"Can you see them?" the girl squealed.

"No, though I imagine their interesting specimens."

"They're hideous."

It made sense to Draco now. Obviously he'd seen his fair share of death over the past two years. He watched as the cart containing the girl and her smarmy friend trundled up to the castle. He was running out of time. It was at least another mile upwards and Draco's time would be up before he'd even gotten to the door. All hope began to drain out of him as he contemplated his fate.

At that moment, something cold and scaly pressed itself into Draco's hand. With a gasp, Draco turned around to stare into the eyes of a Thestral, who had been sniffing Draco's hand, looking for food no doubt. Having had bad experiences with most magical creatures, Draco jumped backwards. "Don't eat me!" he whimpered piteously. He was instantly reminded of Young Draco and the advice he had given him: _Don't be a coward. _Yes, well. It was slightly hypocritical to go around spouting that sort of thing when he was spooked by a Thestral.

The Thestral ignored him and continued looking at him in a morose sort of way. It shook its great wings and sniffed Draco's arm. It was practically tame. The half-giant Hagrid probably petted them daily and exercised them around a bloody home-made paddock. It was then the idea struck Draco.

Never in a million years would he have mounted a wild creature he knew barely anything about and asked it to fly to a specific place. But this wasn't a million years. It was the past and more than one life hung in the balance, so with a hopeful heart, Draco did just that.  
"To the castle!" he cried, feeling eight again. Except he was eighteen and sat astride a great skeletal horse with folded wings.

To his great surprise, the Thestral took off at a run, stretching its folded wings and leaving the grassy floor. It flew low toward the castle, letting out a shriek that filled the night air.

Draco yelled in excitement and felt his stomach swoop. He was flying! Not on a broom, not by magic, but a living creature had lifted him into the air and was soaring towards Hogwarts at his command. Beat this Potter! Hippogriffs are one thing, but an invisible horse of death? Draco clung to the creature for dear life and felt the chill September wind ripple though the tears in his robes. The cold air stung his eyes and they watered the tears running tracks down his dirty cheeks.

From up here, the castle looked beautiful. Hundreds of windows lit by torchlight flickered in the darkness and Draco could see into the Great Hall as students filed in for the Sorting and the feast. Above him, velvet clouds swirled through the dusk and the stars winked at him in their inky bed. Draco dared to reach out his hand to touch them. With a great swoop, the Thestral began to land, plummeting towards the ground with speed and grace. Draco clung to its neck and braced himself.

They landed fairly lightly near the doors, though Draco's legs trembled as he dismounted.

"Err... Thank you." he mumbled, touching the creatures cool nose awkwardly. Barely acknowledging how he had just spoken to a creature, Draco ran through the doors and into the entrance hall. The clock began to strike an hour and Draco knew he had to get back to the broom cupboard before the chimes ended. He'd left at dawn and calculated his time up to now.

A strange sensation began to creep into his limbs, slowing them down slightly. He could see his cupboard, up the first flight of stairs and barely recognizable in a castle not torn apart by war. The world began to melt around him and for the first time, Draco thought of the consequences of changing the past. His father had assured him it was fine however: "_This time turner was adjusted for altering time. It's risky, but if you do everything I say, you could correct all that has failed." _Despite this, Draco didn't trust the dark magic that had been entwined into the time turner. Though what a time to think this, he cursed himself. It was a bit late now.

The world was barely recognizable as Draco's hand yanked open the cupboard door. He felt as though he was dreaming as he slammed it shut behind him, locking himself in the darkness. The world faded completely and with a lurch, Draco's feet landed on ground seven years into the future, the exact time and place he had left.


	3. Three

_**3**_

Outside of his cupboard, the world was silent. There was no spell-fire or shouts. Draco was quite sure the air was filled with less dust too. Heart hammering in his chest, Draco opened the door.

A world much the same as the one he had left awaited him, if only slightly less battle worn. The castle was still charred and crumbled but less so, as though someone had begun to repair it. Draco shook as he walked down the staircase and into the entrance hall. He had no idea what this present held for him. He wanted his parents, he wanted Voldemort to be dead and he wanted Harry very much alive.

The doors to the Great Hall opened and Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom came out of it, levitating empty boxes with their wands and talking in hushed voices. They were scarred and bruised but clean. Their wounds looked a few days old to Draco.

The two Gryffindors made their way across the entrance hall towards the kitchens. Granger glanced at Draco as she passed, too concerned with her solemn whisperings to pay much attention. Suddenly, however, she stopped, and turned slowly to squint at him. The wand in her hand clattered to the floor as did the boxes she was levitating. Longbottom gaped too, his boxes tumbling next to Granger's with several dull thuds.

Draco felt his heart begin to race. The way they were looking at him was alarming. He cursed himself and realized how stupid he had been. Meddling with time was volatile business. His counterpart could have become anything in this present.

"Malfoy?" Longbottom blinked as though he couldn't quite believe it.

"Harry!" Hermione called in a high pitched voice, stepping backwards.

The sun was bright and it shone through the windows in the entrance hall onto Draco's face. He squinted in the bright light as a figure came hurrying out of the great hall. Shielding his eyes, Draco saw the figure was none other than Harry Potter himself. Without stopping himself, he smiled. Harry Potter drew closer until he was standing barely an inch from Draco's face.

Potter was pale and his eyes were steely. He was scarred but clean too, in a long sleeved shirt and Slytherin robe. This struck Draco as exceedingly odd. Even so, Harry Potter stood before him with bright green eyes and jet black hair, standing, breathing, living.

"You're alive." Draco said quietly.

Harry closed his eyes and Draco was surprised to see pain in them when they reopened. "Yes." he replied in a low voice. "And you're supposed to be dead."

Draco could take everything but this. Here was the flaw in the plan he hadn't foreseen: He had died. Somewhere in this present, Draco had fallen and lost his life. Shouldn't he have vanished upon arriving here then? Or did his twisted Time turner work differently? Wishing he had never even laid eyes on the thing, Draco felt weak at the knees. He let Granger disarm him and take his wand; he didn't fight as Longbottom and none other than Knott shoved him into a chair in the Hospital Wing and he didn't say a word as Harry took the wand and time turner and pulled up a chair opposite him, green eyes harsh and piercing.

The front of the castle had a gaping hole in it, meaning the Hospital Wing was exposed, allowing Draco to stare out over the grounds of Hogwarts. It was dawn and mist was rolling off the lake and lying thick over the green grounds of the castle, hanging low in the air and making the place seem tropical. Despite the mist, the air was warm and birds chirped brightly in the distance.

Draco felt himself grow calmer. He ought to learn more about this future before he lost his cool. "Is You-Know-Who-Dead?" he asked, closing his eyes and letting the summer breeze cool his face. It carried familiar scents of pollen and hot earth.

"Yes."

"You finally did it then?"

"Shut up."

Draco thought this was a reasonable request so he did. He watched as The Whomping Willow stretched its branches and shook the dew from its leaves. He felt slightly unnerved at the abruptness of his arrival. Draco was being treated as a criminal, which was entirely unfair. This soon brought him to his senses. His throat was dry and his stomach whined in hunger.

"Do you have any water?" he asked Potter hopefully.

Potter didn't reply but continued watching him closely, Draco's time turner and wand lay on his lap. In one hand Harry held his watch, the other gripped his wand. Or rather, a double of his own. Thieving bastard. He'd probably took it from his dead body. "You'll snap that wand if you grip it any tighter."

Harry Potter didn't reply, but clenched the wand harder. Draco didn't appreciate his property, (or rather, Young Draco's property) being manhandled by a galumphing Scar-head. "That's my wand you're about to snap." he remarked.

Harry stood up so quickly, Draco jolted in his chair. "Hermione!" Potter yelled in an uneasy voice.

Granger burst into the room (Could you call it a room with three walls?) and ran up to Harry.

"What is it?"  
"Could you watch him please? Just until the hour is up."

Granger nodded, taking the watch from Potter and aiming her wand at Draco. Until the hour was up? Now this made more sense.

"You think I'm an imposter." Draco sighed, watching Harry leave the Hospital Wing looking pained.

Granger narrowed her eyes.

"Well I've not drunk any Polyjuice potion. I'm Draco Malfoy."  
Checking him for Glamories and enchantments at an impressive pace, Granger spoke in a listless tone. "Draco Malfoy is dead."

"Well I'm not dead and I'm Draco Malfoy."

"I'm afraid we have to wait another twenty three minutes until we can confirm that."

"Have it your way." Draco spat. Young Draco was dead. Yet he was sitting here-very much alive-in an uncomfortable school chair, staring at Hermione Granger. Great. He had officially killed himself. Unashamedly, he wanted his mother. "Where are my parents?" he murmured, tears threatening their way from his eyes. Wouldn't that just be the icing on the Cauldron Cake? Sobbing in front of a Mudblood. Granger averted her gaze in a way that made panic rise within Draco.

"LET ME GO!" he howled. Quickly reigning in his emotions, he blew his hair out of his eyes, slightly embarrassed.

"Look." Granger began, leaning closer. "I know what you had around your neck."

Draco waited.

"I used one all the way through third year to get to my lessons and helped destroy the batch of them held in the Ministry of Magic. I know it's possible there are still some in existence but you-"

She paused and looked closely at Draco. "You can't be here. Draco Malfoy is dead."

"I can explain! You can trust me!" Draco shouted.

"I could trust Draco Malfoy."

Trust was something Draco had never really gained, and his counterpart had somehow earned it from Granger of all people. He sat quietly and savoured it for a while, looking out at Hogwarts Grounds: lush and green in the mist. He had been trusted. Somehow, the boy on the train Draco had traumatized had heeded his warning and earned the trust of a Gryffindor mudblood.

Well bloody done.

"How did he die?" Draco asked quietly.

Granger looked at Potter's watch as she spoke. "He saved Harry's life. Threw him his wand when Harry was unarmed. Voldemort killed him before Harry had even caught it."  
Draco felt his heart constrict in his chest. _'Be brave.' _He had told the eleven year old. It seemed like an age before Granger spoke again. "Your hour's up by the way."

"It is?"

Granger nodded. "Harry probably wants to speak to you."

Harry did indeed want to speak to him. First, however, he held up Draco's time turner and demanded an explanation.

"It's a time turner, you half-wit." Draco sneered, falling into automatic Versus-Potter-Mode.

"And?" Potter prompted him.

"It's been messed with. Dark magic has made it able enough to actually change the past." _Change the past... _Well it sounded catastrophic put like that. "It's probably the most powerful sort of magic I've ever encountered." he added.

Harry squinted at it through his glasses and shook his head in disbelief. "You've always had an affinity for dark objects haven't you?" Draco thought it surprising that he would say this, but come to think of it, it was true. He said nothing however and waited for Harry to speak again. "What sort of hell did you plan to unleash with it?" he eventually asked.

"Idiot!" Draco snapped in sudden fury, snatching the chain from Harry's hand. "If it changes the past then I've obviously already been back there and bloody changed it! Don't you realize what I've done? If it wasn't for me your Draco Malfoy wouldn't have ever been your friend! He certainly wouldn't have died for you either!"

"Don't you talk about him!" Harry barked his voice hoarse. The noise reverberated off the walls and something slowly dawned on Draco. He continued carefully, testing his suspicions.

"You wouldn't have cared Potter. If I hadn't have used this, you'd never have been my friend, never have trusted me and wouldn't have given me a second thought if I'd have dropped dead at your feet."

"I would!" Harry's chest swelled.

"We hate each other! We're not friends! I didn't die for you! I created your future Potter! Everything you've had in Hogwarts since your train ride here that September night seven years ago, all the way up to this very moment, it's all been down to me! I meddled in the past! I killed your Draco!"

Harry's fist impacted with Draco's face before he could check himself. If there was one thing he was good at, it was pushing Harry too far. That was all he had time to think as he tumbled backwards and hit his head on the cold, stone floor.

_It was dark but Draco was quite sure of himself. Yes, here he was in Potions. He could hear Potter's laughter over the bubble of the cauldrons. Something hilarious must have happened for Potter to so much as think a happy thought in Potions. Snape would take away all of Gryffindor's points and wipe that smile of his face. That was a good thing. That was a bad thing. Potter laughed again, this time louder. What was so funny? Draco wished it was him. Usually Potter was the butt of his jokes however so he must have been laughing at one of his stupid friends. Draco felt empty inside and the laugh grew distant. Maybe he should just say it. He was so far away anyway. "I love you." he whispered. Potter would never hear over his own laughter. "I love you." Draco said again._

He blinked his eyes open and saw a familiar face. Black hair, green eyes, stupid glasses...

"I love you." Draco murmured.

"You always did." Harry replied.

Draco awoke with a start. He sat up, almost colliding with Harry who had been leaning over him. He was in a hospital bed. The birds were still singing outside and the mist had lifted slightly, making way for a beautiful summer's day. Harry handed him a glass of cold water and Draco snatched it, quenching his thirst and swallowing the cool liquid. "You punched me." Draco said by way of an accusation.

Harry handed Draco a plate of sandwiches, perhaps by way of an apology. Draco ate quickly, forgetting all the manners he'd ever been taught. He collected his thoughts together as he ate.

"You loved him." Draco said, almost positive of his statement.

"Draco?" said Harry in a hollow sort of voice "Always."

Draco had to lie down again and remind himself that it wasn't him Harry loved. It was the boy on the train he had told to side with Harry Potter. Well bless that boy; he had sided with Harry Potter until the very end. "Will you tell me about him?" Draco asked, looking at Harry who was rolling Draco's wand in his hands and staring at the floor.

"Answer me this first," said Harry. "When Draco was on the train on the way to Hogwarts for the first time, someone dragged him into the toilet and gave him the best and most obscure advice he'd ever been given,"

"That was me." Draco said, struggling to suppress a smirk.

"I thought so, since you and your Time turner arrived." Harry grinned. "He'd never have listened to anyone else would he?"

Draco suppressed a smile. No he probably wouldn't have.

"You can't have loved him that much if you're functioning so well." Draco said daringly as they walked together through the castle, clambering up the staircases, apparently headed somewhere in particular as Harry led the way.

"How many people have _you_ lost?" Harry asked in a surprisingly calm tone.

Draco thought carefully. Had he lost anybody at all? Crabbe? Harry had died in the present he'd come from. Harry wasn't his to lose though. Draco really had isolated himself throughout his life. Harry took his silence for an answer.

"If I grieved for everyone I lost I'd never stop."

They stopped for a moment as one of the staircases decided whether it wanted a change of scenery. Draco noted the Slytherin robes again. "Don't tell me you're in Slytherin."  
"I am."

Draco scoffed. "That's something I can scarcely imagine."

Harry ignored him. "Was I in Gryffindor before – before you changed the past?"

"You were the biggest Gryffindor loser I've ever known." Draco replied.

Harry was quiet for a moment, watching the stairs moving slowly. "People often said I should have been a Gryffindor."

"But they often said you should have been in Slytherin in my past."

"They did?"

Draco smirked. "Perhaps you should have had your own house Potter. You're dimmer than a Hufflepuff, duller than a Ravenclaw, darker than a Slytherin and more arrogant than any Gryffindor I've ever known."

"If you haven't noticed the black eye I've already given you, perhaps you'd like another?"

Harry raised one eyebrow at Draco in amusement at his own joke. It occurred to him that this Harry was more of a Slytherin than himself and Draco was fast at risk of becoming a reckless Gryffindor the way he was going: gallivanting through the past, trying to save Harry Potter. Sneering, Draco wondered what on earth it would have been like to put up with Potter in Slytherin. "Your poor Draco. How did he cope with you for all these years?"

Harry didn't reply, but he smiled a knowing smile. How annoying."When are you going to tell me about your Draco, smart-arse?"

"I'm not." Harry said, leaping up the first few steps of the staircase that had finally decided to settle down. Draco scurried after him, knitting his eyebrows together in annoyance. Harry led them all the way up the stairs and down a corridor before stopping in front of a stone gargoyle.

He turned to Draco with a tepid smile. "I'm going to show you."

Of course Draco should have paid more attention. They were outside Dumbledore's office. If Dumbledore was still alive that is. "Who's headmaster? Snape?" Draco asked.

"Draco." Harry said.

"Oh come on Potter! Getting along with you is a tremendous enough feat as it is! There's no way I was headmaster!"

The stone gargoyle was moving, giving way to a familiar, marble staircase, spiralling upwards. "No." Harry replied. "That was the password."

Feeling foolish, but rather relieved that this world wasn't entirely unhinged, Draco followed Harry up the staircase. The torchlight flickered feebly behind them in the corridor and neither boy noticed the shadow looming in the darkness.

"No." Harry replied in answer to his earlier question. "Snape wasn't headmaster. He was died at the hands of Voldemort in the summer of sixth year."

Draco felt himself pale. It seemed there was no escape from war and he longed for the darkness of his cupboard again.

"It was McGonagall for a while after Dumbledore's death, but she didn't last much longer." Harry added, opening the door to Dumbledore's office. "Once Voldemort's Death Eater's moved into the school, they saw no reason to keep her alive."

It seemed the death toll was rather high in this present. Then again, Draco mused, he hadn't even ventured to see who had died in his own time before he'd changed the past. Draco longed to go back and stop Voldemort from so much as being born. His father had warned him however, against travelling back before one's own time. "_If you altered time in the slightest before your own existence,"_ he had told him firmly, "_You could wipe your own birth from history and the time turner will vanish you into nothingness."_ Despite having altered the lives of several people, his father had only told him to protect his own. Typical Slytherins, Draco seethed, always looking after ourselves.

"Draco." Harry said softly.

Draco's heart skipped a beat. Never before had Harry Potter said his name so softly. The only person who had ever spoken to him like that was his bloody mother. Harry was stood, staring intently at his face in the open doorway, holding out his hand for Draco to take. How could he tar all Slytherin's with a brush of self devotion, when Harry stood before him in his own house robes?

Fear screaming within Draco's chest rooted him to the spot, but Harry's soothing gaze warmed him, and his own pale hand reached out without warning - shaking - to take Harry's. It was likely that Harry had forgotten-or rather- chosen to forget that Draco wasn't his own. The room was busy with trinkets and instruments. Portrait's shuffled in their frames to watch the two boys cross the room and stand in the centre. Harry's eyes penetrated Draco's: brilliant green into stormy grey. He spoke softly. "It's alright."

It would be. It would be if Harry loved him. No that wasn't right. He hadn't come here on a quest for Harry's love. He was here because he'd wanted to right his wrongs. Yet somehow he'd made things worse...

Harry took a step closer to him, lifting his hand to run it through Draco's hair, brushing it out of his eyes. "You always loved that." Harry whispered so quietly that Draco almost didn't hear him. Although it could have been because blood was rushing in his ears as his heart thundered frantically. He was right though; Draco had always been _very_ fond of that.

Draco closed his eyes, letting himself be tenderly soothed. When he opened them again, Harry's face was close, watching him. The hand holding Draco's tightened, the other cradled the back of his head as Harry pressed their foreheads together. If Draco could have spoken, he'd have cried out a string of nonsense. There was a fire within him that was making him tremble and if it weren't for Harry's desperate grip he'd have surely crumbled into ashes.

Then Harry leaned closer and Draco saw the pain on his face and the need in his eyes. He was so close to Draco that he could feel the ghost of Harry's breath on his lips.

But Harry Potter was grieving.

Turning away so Harry's lips clumsily met his jaw, Draco spoke. "It's not me you want Potter."

Harry was still for a moment, breathing raggedly on Draco's face, clutching his hand and stroking his hair. Draco wondered if he would be able to stand it if the person he had loved died and their doppelgänger appeared from nowhere and told him to feel nothing, to stay away.

"Draco." Harry said urgently, pulling away and clasping Draco's face with both of his hands. His eyes searched Draco's. "I need you to do something when I've shown you-"

Suddenly, there was a change in the air. Draco's heart almost stopped in his chest as his brain registered something familiar and deadly: A smell. Then the noise: a metal blade being drawn, slowly, tantalizingly. Draco placed the smell a heartbeat before he appeared.

Rotting flesh: Fenrir Greyback.

Harry had his back to the peril and had time to only blink in bewilderment- hands still cupping Draco's face-as the ragged Death Eater charged at him, brandishing the glittering sword of Gryffindor. With a snarl, he drove it into Harry's back and the tip emerged through his chest, impaling him on the shimmering blade. Draco stared at the tip with an open mouth and Harry's hands fell from Draco's face, leaving it cold.

Draco drew his wand too late; Greyback kicked Harry to the floor, wrenching the sword from Harry's body as he fell. He had no time to look at his witness as Draco's hoarse shout filled the air. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" - a flash of green light and Fenrir Greyback crumpled.


	4. Four

_**4**_

Blood.

Everywhere.

Harry's blood was pouring from him, spreading out into a pool around his body. His eyelid's flickered and he mouthed something. Draco was knelt in the pool, his hand a vice grip on Harry's as he tried to recall a healing spell.

Think!

His mind was blank; the only thing he could recall was the last sixty seconds in repeat. Draco roared in frustration as he saw Harry impaled again and again.

Quivering, Draco knew he could only repair the external damage. He murmured the spell, stumbling over his words, perspiration soaking him as he focused. Running his wand along Harry's front he sealed the wound and stopped the blood from cascading from his chest. It was still flowing from his back however and Draco would have had to flip Harry over, killing him quicker no doubt, but was it better to leave him bleed to death internally? The colour was draining from Harry's face, leaving him deathly pale. He mouthed something again and Draco leaned in close, pressing his ear against Harry's lips. "Pensive."

What did Harry want with a bloody Pensive?  
Harry's right hand, lying at his side quivered and pointed to the corner. Draco whipped his head around and saw it: a Pensive. Harry spoke again and Draco had to lean in once more. "Memories ... Look ... Draco's memories ...Our memories." Came the husky voice. Looking around again, Draco saw where Harry's finger was gesturing. Hanging on the mirror behind the Pensive on a silver thread was a glass vial filled with strange, silvery liquid: memories.

"Promise -" Harry coughed desperately, his right hand grabbing Draco's colour. Draco looked at him quickly, running a hand over his forehead. "Go back -"

A trickle of blood ran down Harry's chin as he turned his head to tip it out, having no energy to cough.

"But you died! That's why I changed my past! To save you!" Draco wept, unashamed as tears mixed with the sweat on his face.

Harry shook, seeming to draw his last reserves together and squeeze Draco's hand. "This -" he struggled, "Was never meant to be."

"I can go back and stop Greyback!" Draco said hurriedly, fumbling for the time turner beneath his robes. "I can make it okay! I'll stay with you!"

Harry smiled feebly. "Your Harry needs you." he whispered, closing his eyes. "...never meant to happen..."

Draco brought his face close to Harry's as he took one, last, laboured breath.

With a piteous whine, Draco pressed his lips against Harry's forehead, his tears splashing onto Harry's glasses and pallid face. Wrapping his arms around Harry's neck, now floppy as there was no bolshy pride left to hold it high, Draco rocked back and fore.  
He had lost. The distance he had travelled through time to save Harry's life had ended in failure. Greyback's rotting stench reached his nostrils and suddenly, Draco saw red. Lowering Harry's head to the floor with deathly calm, Draco stood up, raised his wand and blasted Fenrir's corpse across the room. It collided with a bookcase and hundreds of books tumbled from their shelves and on top of him, crashing to the ground, some howling, others playing gentle music. One book fluttered like a startled bird, apparently frightened by Draco's disturbance and tried to flee, flapping its pages and crashing into walls in its panic.

Turning back to Harry laying motionless and bloodless on the floor, Draco spoke. "You were right." He lifted the sword from the ground and placed it on Harry, crossing his arms over it nobly. "This was never meant to be."

Draco Scourgified the blood and the scene looked less macabre. Harry could almost have been sleeping on the wooden floorboards, clasping The Sword of Gryffindor – his rightful entitlement – to his torso.

Then Draco brooded. However beautiful a castle full of holes was, it still let in the enemy. There would always be an enemy too. Even at the end of the longest war, there was always a survivor, always an avenger seeking more blood.

Fenrir Greyback had murdered Harry Potter, seeking some vengeance or fame. Harry Potter was a hero-a silly boy but a hero nonetheless. Harry Potter would die a hero and if Draco had to go back to his present and face that then he would. Harry Potter was never meant to reach his end this way. He wasn't even meant to be a Slytherin, and most painfully, he was never meant to love Draco.

As he stood up, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror behind the Pensive: blood soaked, filthy, sporting an impressive black eye. The silvery liquid on its silvery thread caught Draco's eye. Harry's dying wish was for him to see those memories and go back and undo what he'd changed.

_Your Harry needs you._

Draco took a hasty step forward and took the vial. He watched it for a moment, letting the gentle light of the room catch the glass and its contents. With trembling hands, he took the stopper from the vial and stared into the empty bowl for a moment. He wasn't afraid now. He was anxious. There was still noise in the room: the howling books were now lamenting softly and the melodic books tinkled lazily like music boxes that needed rewinding.

Draco poured the memories into the dish and watched the silvery stuff swirl like shimmering fish. The spooked book made its way to the side of the Pensive and rested itself there. Draco felt it was observing him, intrigued. Beneath him the liquid took on a warm hue; Draco could make out candlelight and … was that the great hall?

With a quavering breath, he lowered his head into the memories of Young Draco.


	5. Five

_**5**_

Draco tumbled from the ceiling of the Great Hall and landed rather precariously, yet quite safe, behind the Slytherin table. With a gasp, he stood up, looking about him. No one had seen him fall obviously, but it had been a traumatic experience nonetheless.

The hall was completely alive, more alive than Draco had ever remembered it being throughout all his years at Hogwarts. Candles hovered and students shuffled restlessly. This was the year Harry Potter had arrived at Hogwarts. Which house would he be sorted into? Draco had remembered hearing the whisperings at his table while they had waited. Had he defeated Voldemort with guile, bravery, intellect or (The Slytherins had scoffed) perhaps he had killed him with kindness?

Draco looked at his table now, at the faces of students long gone from Hogwarts, and the familiar, youthful ones. There was Crabbe; round as ever, Goyle; thick and burly, and there - looking slightly shaken – Young Draco.

Excited, Draco drew closer, studying the face of his junior. "Perks, Sally-Anne!" was sorted somewhere or other and the hall fell silent as the next name was called.  
"Potter, Harry!"

With a heavy heart, Draco turned to look at Harry, his face bright yet nervous. As he walked up to the stool, he tried to flatten his sticky up hair – to no avail – before sitting down. The hat was dropped over his head, covering his eyes. Draco remembered this from his own past. Harry had conversed with the hat, murmuring to it like a weirdo. This time however, Potter's mouth remained closed, and he sat patiently waiting. Tiring of the site of an eleven year old Harry with a scruffy hat over his eyes, Draco turned to look at Young Draco. He was fiddling with his robes, staring into his lap but glancing repeatedly upwards to look at Harry.

"Slytherin!" the hat bellowed and even Draco almost fell over in surprise.  
The hall buzzed with excitement. The famous Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, Slayer of Dark Wizards: a Slytherin. Almost as pale as Draco, Little Harry made his way over to the table, accepting the raucous applause from his new house. He grinned sheepishly and tried to catch Young Draco's eye. Young Draco, however, was having none of it. His eyes firmly fixed on the hem of his robe, Young Draco avoided Harry's gaze, even as he rounded the table to sit next to him.

Draco began to worry he had emotionally scarred the boy for life but quite suddenly, Young Draco looked up. His lip curled – not disdainfully – but into something unnatural and almost … warm. For Merlin's sake, thought Draco, did he always look that demented when he smiled? Then again, he concluded, when was he ever nice? Harry didn't seem to mind however, he returned the smile (Could you call it a smile when it was more like a grimace?) and grinned broadly. Clearly, Draco observed, all was forgiven.

Just as Draco was beginning to forget he was in a memory and consider the prospect of the approaching feast (He hadn't eaten for hours!) the great hall dissolved around him and his own dormitory, rich and dark, rose from the ground like mist, standing solid before him.

"I want this one!" Young Draco yelled haughtily, running into the room and scrambling onto the bed near the window. "I have a balcony in my room at home you know, I'm used to being near fresh air."

Apparently Young Draco had found his ego again. Harry followed him quietly, his eyes drinking in the sight before him. He sat himself on the bed next to Draco's before he spotted his things in the middle of the room. "Hedwig!" he said fondly, approaching his snowy owl in her cage.

Draco recognized the bird: always dropping mysterious parcels and brooms onto Harry's lap in the great hall. Young Draco was peering out of the window, gloating about his Quidditch abilities to Crabbe who was shovelling handfuls of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans into his mouth, apparently not caring what the flavours were. At Harry's sudden, gentle cry, he turned around with interest. "Is that your owl? I have an eagle owl – he's really quite frightening."

Harry didn't reply, but took Hairwig (Draco wasn't really sure of the name) out of its cage. It hopped onto the crook of his arm and nibbled his ear affectionately. Young Draco gawped. "You mustn't have it out in here!" he cried.

Harry said nothing again but approached Young Draco with the bird now on his shoulder. "Her name's Hedwig."

_Hedwig … _Of course_,_ thought Draco.

Young Draco backed off, looking at Harry as though he was a tearaway rebel. Harry laughed. "She's quite friendly."

Draco sniffed. "_Quite_?" All the same, he reached out his fingers and ran them over the owl's snowy white coat. "She's rather fetching." he added quietly, looking at Harry. Draco saw the look and cringed. It was really quite transparent, the way his eyes clouded over and his face softened. Harry was smiling at Hedwig, quite oblivious (He always was two steps behind in Draco's opinion). "I'm exhausted!" Harry sighed, walking towards the window, opening it and watching Hedwig as she hopped from his shoulder and glided silently into the cool night air.

Young Draco's terrible simpering expression liquefied and another scene came into focus. Draco saw the corridor outside Potions solidify before him, torches flicker their light off the dark, stone walls, casting dancing shadows of the line of Gryffindor/Slytherin students congregated in it.

"I hate having Snape." Harry was saying to the Weasel. Apparently they were still friends despite Weasley sporting red and gold. "There's something creepy about him."

Young Draco looked at Harry contemptuously from the corner of his eye; he stood next to him, pouting miserably as Potter conversed with a knot of Gryffindors. "If his hair was any greasier, he'd be a fire hazard!" Weaselbee quipped much to the appreciation of the circle.

"Grease isn't actually a fire hazard you know." Granger cut in. "Though I can't say I like Snape very much. He's always very unfair."

Young Draco's face twisted into a scowl. "Snape's a talented and respectable wizard I'll have you know." he spat. "He's also a friend of my father's. Most importantly, he's a pureblood, and one with a blood status like _yours_ shouldn't make accusatory remarks."

The Slytherins in the hallway hissed and cackled appreciatively. Weasley's face flamed red; the other Gryffindors threw reproachful barbs at Draco. Potter gave him a look of horror and disgust. "Are you for real Draco?"

Young Draco paled and he turned away.

The dim corridor melted and Draco was grateful. He found himself back in the Slytherin dormitory. Harry was lying on his stomach on his bed, reading a book. Young Draco joined him, sitting down heavily with a huge bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. "Want one Potter?"

"No thanks. I don't fancy getting a bad flavour. I've had enough excitement for one year." Harry replied, turning the page of his book.

Young Draco snorted, sifting around in the packet. "Ah, but you're talking to _Me_." he drawled, pulling out a red, speckled bean and examining it closely. "Strawberry Jam."

Harry took it, gingerly, and put it in his mouth. His face broke into a smile and he made an appreciative noise. "How'd you do that?"

"Powerful magic, a keen eye...General Malfoy talents."

Harry laughed, turning back to his book. Draco watched him for a moment before picking at Harry's baggy t-shirt. "Why are your clothes so weird?" he inquired impolitely.

Harry continued reading nonchalantly. "They're my cousin's hand-me-downs." he replied. "He eats too much and moves too little."

Draco's mouth twitched in amusement, but he continued to stare at Harry, who read his book, not really bothered by things. Young Draco sifted around in his bag of sweets and picked out a speckled brown one. He placed it on the page of Harry's book. "Treacle tart." Harry eyed him warily before putting it in his mouth. Draco nodded as Harry chewed, before giving him a dazzling smile.

The dormitory faded and materializing around Draco was a busy Platform 9 and ¾. It must have been the start of a school year as children were boarding the train, waving away flapping parents. A young wizard pelted after an escaped cat through the crowds. A witch with pink hair passionately kissed her boyfriend, apparently having not seen him for several years the way their lips were locked...

Speaking of reunions, Draco saw his young counterpart approaching the train with his parents. "Are you sure you've got everything now Draco?" his mother cooed, brushing flint from Draco's new robes. He had grown a fair amount in a year. Young Draco tutted. He was twelve now, he'd be thirteen soon and he certainly didn't need his mother dithering over him. "Yes mother."

"Draco be sure to write regularly this year, you didn't tell us nearly enough last year, especially about your new friend -"  
"Harry!" Young Draco yelled. Lucius Malfoy winced at the crude shout, and Draco did too. Turning around, he saw Harry, slightly taller himself with hair as nest like as ever. "Draco!" Harry called back, putting Hedwig's cage and his case down on the platform. Before Draco could wonder why, Young Draco crashed into Harry's arms, hugging him like a long lost loved one.

Draco never hugged anyone. Most boys didn't anyway. The furthest it extended was a brotherly pat on the back, or a drunken emotional clutch. Yet there he was, squeezing Harry like he'd never let go, and Harry squeezed back. Glancing at his parents, Draco saw concern in the eye of his mother and ominous disapproval in his father's.

Young Draco, seemingly unconcerned, ran to his parents, bidding them hurried goodbyes as he took his luggage from them. "Tell me all about your summer with those hideous muggles!" Young Draco demanded as he rejoined Harry. They clambered onto the train together, Harry smiling fondly.

The steam on the platform covered the scene and the bustle and noise became distant. As it cleared, a corner of the library was revealed where Harry and Draco were sat: Young Draco scribbling onto parchment, Harry staring into the far off distance.

"That's due in tomorrow and unless you fancy trying to find Granger and begging her to do it I suggest you – start – writing." Draco scolded, stabbing Harry's parchment with his flamboyant quill on the last two words.

"Who cares about a stupid Transfiguration essay?" Harry hissed, snatching Draco's quill from him. "The Heir of Slytherin is wrecking havoc in the school!"

"Unfortunate as that is," Draco snatched his quill back, scowling as it was now slightly bent. "There's not much we can do is there? Besides, we're in Slytherin so we're safe."

Harry glowered darkly. "Typical Draco. Really selfish."

"Oh shut up!" Young Draco snapped and Draco saw the hurt flicker in his eyes. "You've already got Weasley and Granger looking into this nonsense. What do you expect me to do?"

"You could at least help!" Harry hissed. "We could ask all our housemates if they've got Slytherin heritage or something!"

Draco scoffed loudly. "Oh yes Harry. They're going to admit to that while some loony's rampaging through the school, signing themselves as the _Heir of Slytherin_!"

Harry folded his arms and sunk down in his chair. Draco, satisfied with his argument, sneered and went back to his essay, bent quill in hand. Harry being Harry however wasn't finished. "If I didn't know any better," he began darkly. "I'd say you were the one with green blood."

Even Draco was surprised at the accusation, he watched young Draco stand up with lightening speed. "What are you trying to say?" he snarled.

"I'm not trying to say anything, but the way your acting, you might as well approve of the whole thing!" Harry retorted, standing up as well. Draco bristled. "Have you any idea what you're accusing me of?"

"Yeah I do!" Harry snapped. "Because I think about it all the time! It worries me you know, people getting petrified by a monster no one knows anything about!"

"AND YOU THINK I DON'T?" Draco roared.

"LIAR!"

They would be in trouble, Draco knew it. If you so much as sneezed too loudly in the library, Madam Pince would hunt you down and scold you for disturbing the peace. Before the shouts could grow any louder however, Draco had drawn his wand, Harry a split second afterward. They shot and deflected several jinxes, creating horrific noise and knocking books from their shelves. Draco's essay went up in smoke and he screamed in fury, exploding Harry's inkwell over his satchel and books.

Taking a step back though he knew he was a ghost among memories, Draco heard approaching footsteps and scolding shouts. The scene weakened, leaving behind flashes and smoke and making way for a heady smell of perfumed flames and the sight of colourful cloth, draped over surfaces and shrouding the room in a dim red light. Sybil Trelawney appeared unsettled in her classroom, checking her large, pocket-watch and muttering to herself in her wavering voice.  
The trapdoor opened and Young Draco appeared, his face twisted into a frightful scowl. He clambered up and was shortly followed by a sulky looking Harry.

"Scoundrels!" she cried dramatically. "Welcome."

Harry glanced to his fellow 'scoundrel' but Draco was glowering at the floor with folded arms.

"If you don't mind dear children, I have important … things to foresee." Trelawney said with flamboyant wave of her arms. "I'll leave you two to polish the crystal balls as your punishment." she added. "Look not too closely within however!"

Harry rolled his eyes.  
"They could bear grave tidings..."

With that, she swept from the room. Probably, Draco concluded, to oversee some cooking sherry.

"She's mad isn't she?" Harry breathed, laying a lingering gaze on Draco, who had turned away and was studying a tea cup. Harry waited, before trying again."To think we'll have her next year..." Draco, no longer transfixed by the teacup, picked up a forgotten textbook and flicked through it lazily. Harry narrowed his eyes. "You can't ignore me forever Draco."

"Watch me." Draco replied coldly.

"Draco I'm sorry!" Harry cried, grabbing Draco's arm and trying to turn him around.

Tearing himself from Harry's grasp, Draco snarled."You don't seem sorry!"

"Draco pleases!" Harry whined. "I didn't mean any of it. I'm just – I'm just angry!"

Placing the book back on its table, Draco looked into Harry's eyes. "You're always angry." he said quietly. Harry nodded and took a step closer. "Do you forgive me?"

"Not really."

Harry held out his hand. "Please Draco."

Draco stared at Harry's hand for a while before sighing resolutely and shaking it. "You got lucky Potter."

Harry pulled him close and held him again, closing his eyes. Without hesitating, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry in return with all the restraint of a boy who was never really that angry in the first place. They stood like that for a long time, until the room became a blur to Draco and the rich interior of the Slytherin dormitory appeared before him once more.


	6. Six

_**6**_

The heavy door opened and a filthy and traumatized young Draco clumped into the empty room, his hair sticking up at an odd angle. Harry followed behind him, covered in blood and ink and some sort of slime. He was grinning broadly.

"I can't believe," Draco gasped, flopping onto his bed. He must have been shell shocked, Draco noted, to filthy his sheets. "I let you drag me into the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry laughed and perched himself on Draco's bed.

"Of all places Potter!"

Draco huffed dramatically and rolled his eyes into his head. Harry grinned, watching in amusement as Draco hammed up the performance by tugging at Harry's trouser leg. "My Father wants to see you dead you know. Giving our House Elf your sock! Really!"

Harry chuckled appreciatively. "Technically, you father gave Dobby the sock."

"He was enraged Potter. Be warned!"

Harry shrugged, but Draco fell silent and his expression took on one of utmost concern. "You're not frightened are you?" Harry smiled, taking Draco's hand.

"I'm never frightened when you're around, Dearest Savoir." Draco told the hand holding his in a hushed tone.

The door crashed open and filled the air with an intrusive bang. "Gay!" Goyle called to the boys before throwing himself onto his bed. Harry dropped Draco's hand and moved to his own bed, looking pensive.

The shadowy dormitory was filled with a brilliant sunshine that bathed Draco's skin. It was so bright it was enough to lift his spirits. He found himself outside Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour in Diagon Alley. Witches and Wizards bustled through the cobbled street, peering in shop windows and chattering noisily. Sitting outside the ice-cream parlour, one looking freckly, the other looking tanned, both looking older, was Ron and Hermione. They swung their legs and spooned ice-cream around their sundae dishes. At that moment, The Weasel glanced in his direction and called out "Malfoy!"

For moment, Draco thought he had somehow been seen, but as he whipped around he saw his younger self, meandering through the crowds with his mother and father. They made quite a sight, the way the swaggered along, looking like a family of proud peacocks. Draco looked closely at himself. He had thinned out and his face had lost its roundness. He had also grown – again. His hair hung loosely over his eyes. Draco remembered he'd stopped using gel at this point as his mother had told him it was quite unnecessary – he'd been wandering around looking like a greasy dishcloth.

Lucius Malfoy raised a fine eyebrow and narrowed his eyes at the table where Weasley and Granger sat. Draco's cheeks flamed pink at he glanced warily at his father.

"Malfoy!" Weasley called again, apparently having no shame.

The Malfoys reached the bench and Draco stopped, faltering as he glanced at his parents. Granger boldly spoke up. "How are you Draco?" she asked politely. It sounded as though she would much rather address him as Malfoy, but she appeared to have more tact than The Weasel.

"Very well thank you." Draco replied stiffly, glancing again at his parents.

"We're waiting for Harry." Ron said, looking at Lucius Malfoy with utter contempt. Granger nodded. "Why don't you join us?"

Lucius, who had been looking haughty and bored up to now, scoffed. Draco glanced at him once more before sitting abruptly down on the bench. Narcissa dropped a bag of galleons in Draco's lap. "Spend sensibly darling." she said softly, running a hand through his hair. Draco ducked his head embarrassed, and murmured something.  
"Really Draco." Lucius began in a cold drawl, "Of all places to stop."

Weasley's ears turned a deep shade of red. Lucius's lip curled. "I suppose you could ask Master Weasley here about his trip to Egypt … It must have been quite a treat." He sneered before walking away with Narcissa, swinging his cane with slightly more force. Weasley's face matched his hair and he put his spoon in his mouth, apparently to quell his tongue. Granger let out a small cough. Unable to contain himself however, Weasley tore the spoon from his mouth and spluttered, "Merlin Malfoy, your father's just something else isn't he?"

Draco looked up from his lap. "I'll thank you not to talk about my father like that." he bit. There was an awkward silence at the bench in which Draco scowled into the middle distance, Ron stared into his empty sundae dish and Hermione, for some odd reason, smiled. "I'm glad you joined us though." she said.

The silence was less heavy after that, and moments later. Young Draco's face lit up as he caught sight of something in the crowd. Looking around, Draco saw it too: a mop of tousled, jet-black hair beneath glinting spectacles.

They all waved frantically, even Draco. "Harry! HARRY!" Ron shouted, apparently he had taken on the role of fog-horn.

Potter bounced over to them happily, grinning warmly as he sat down. He had matured too, though the weight that had come from his face didn't quite leave behind the thick jaw he would grow into later, so his face had a babyish, rascally appeal. His hair was also shorter, making it fluff up at odd angles. Draco remembered third year Harry fondly for his looks.

"Finally!" said Ron, as Harry smiled at the table, his eyes lingering on Draco's. "We went to The Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd left, and we went to Flourish and Blott's, and Madam Malkin's, and -"

"I got all my school stuff last week." Harry explained. "How did you know I was staying at The Leaky Cauldron?"  
"Dad." said Ron simply.

"Back up." Draco said suddenly. "Why are you staying at The Leaky Cauldron?"

Harry looked sheepish and opened and closed his mouth a few times. Hermione tutted sternly. "He blew up his Aunt."

Draco laughed. "A muggle? I rather think I approve!"

"I didn't mean to," said Harry as Ron roared with laughter and Draco snorted appreciatively. "I just lost control." Hermione glowered at them both before turning to Harry. "It's not funny." she said sharply. "Honestly I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled."

"Well he wasn't." Draco cut in shortly. "So spare him the lecture Granger."

Harry smiled meekly at Hermione before accepting Ron's congratulatory handshake and locking eyes with Draco again.

The sunshine faded into the dim lights of the Hogwart's Express' carriage compartments. It was dark outside and the train rattled along the track in a familiar rhythm. In the compartment with Draco was Harry, Granger, The Weasel, a shabby looking man asleep in the corner and Young Draco. Harry and Draco sat together on one side of the compartment as Harry told them all about what he had hear Mr and Mrs Weasel saying – or rather arguing – about Sirius Black. Draco listened in disbelief. Was this what Potter's life was like? Draco thought he simply looked for trouble and tried to save the day every year.  
Young Draco looked just as shocked; he chewed anxiously on his lower lip, his face pinched. Ron was thunderstruck, Hermione covered her mouth. "Sirius Black escaped to come after _you_? Oh, Harry..." she said, lowering her hands.

"Oh, don't look so frightened Granger." Draco bit frostily. "The Azkaban guards will catch him in no time."

"Yeah," Ron growled. "You'd know plenty about that kind of stuff."

Draco lowered his voice dangerously. "I beg your pardon?"

"Shut up both of you." Harry snapped.

"What's that noise?" Hermione asked suddenly.

The compartment fell silent. Draco cold hears it too; a faint tinny sort of whistling was coming from somewhere. They all looked around, straining. "It's coming from your trunk, Harry." said Ron, standing up and reaching into the luggage rack above their heads. A moment later, he had pulled out a Pocket Sneakascope. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Weasley's hand and glowing brilliantly.

"Is that a _Sneakascope _Harry?" Hermione asked with interest, standing up for a better look. Draco saw his young counterpart wrinkle his nose as he squinted to look at it as well.

"It's detected someone untrustworthy if you ask me." Ron muttered, narrowing his eyes at Draco.

"Oh, you've found me out Weasel!" Draco cried dramatically, his eyes blazing furiously. "I'm going to catch the next train back to London and tell my father all about your mummy and daddy's argument!"  
"Well I wouldn't be surprised, Malfoy!" Ron retorted, raising his voice.

"Will you two just stop it?" Harry hissed, snatching the Sneakascope from Ron and shoving it back in his trunk. "You'll wake _him_ up." He jerked his head at the shabby man as he said this, and Ron sat down heavily with a rather stormy expression on his face.

The cozy compartment fell apart into cold night air and open sky. Rain was falling in icy sheets and down Draco's back. That was the thing about memories. They gave you the sense of being there. Throngs of students herded towards the mud track where stage coaches were waiting. Draco saw the Thestrals and remembered his previous flight on one with a rather curious emotion he couldn't quite place. He spotted Harry through the rain boarding one of the carriages with Hermione Ron and Young Draco. Realizing he could be left behind, Draco flew forward and scrambled into the coach. It was rather an ungraceful process, but fortunately there was enough room and no one could see him.

Harry looked uncharacteristically faint and he wobbled as the coach trundled up towards the castle. Of course! The Dementors had boarded the train in their third year! Draco had remembered hurtling through the train in a blind panic and almost losing control of himself completely. Having later learned that Dementors fed on fear, Draco wondered how on earth he had managed to retain his soul. Perhaps they had just seen him as a white blond blur, charging through the carriages and a waste of their time.  
"I'm fine." Harry said shortly and suddenly, and Draco drew back to them. He had apparently said this in response to Granger's open mouth, which then snapped shut again. Weasley and she glanced sideways at Potter as the carriage shimmied up to the castle. Draco remembered hearing Harry had fainted and had relished the news, going out of his way to perform swooning impressions for his cronies. Looking at his younger counterpart sitting next to Potter now however, Draco saw concern etched along his face. He did however; refrain from constantly sliding his gaze to Harry. Instead, without a word or glance in Harry's direction, he slowly reached for his hand and took it in his own. Harry must have not objected to this, as he squeezed back. Granger and Weasley's couldn't decide where to look as their eyes danced from one another, then to Harry, then to Draco and finally to their clasped hands.

The darkness of the evening lightened to a drizzly afternoon. Stands and goalposts rose from the ground like fantastical trees and Draco found himself on the edge of the Quidditch Pitch. For a moment he thought there must be more to materialize but it was just a dense fog, clinging to the stands and goal posts.

"Potter!" called a voice and Draco turned to see himself, thirteen years old and scowling. As always.  
Harry was in the distance in dazzling green Quidditch gear with his broom slung over his shoulder. Apparently he had just won the game as two fourth year Slytherin girls squealed and threw their arms around his neck, jabbering congratulations in girlish tones. Taking his time to share a laugh with the girls over a near fall from his broom mid-game, Harry eventually sauntered over to Draco.

"Honestly Draco, you should have played! That was amazing!" Harry grinned, standing opposite Young Draco.

Draco wondered what position he played in this past. Harry had probably nabbed Seeker. Young Draco shrugged. "I told you I don't feel up to it. Speaking of which, I've been waiting in the rain for three quarters of an hour waiting for you and you're not even changed! Perhaps you want me to die of influenza!"

Harry laughed and took Draco by the arm, wandering leisurely towards the changing rooms. "I'm actually going to play exploding snap with Ron and Hermione after dinner so can we finish the homework before then?"

Young Draco's cheeks flushed pink and he snatched his arm away furiously. He glowered at Harry, hair clinging to his face in the rain. "Oh don't mind me." Draco said hotly. "Why don't you just move into Gryffindor? You obviously prefer it there!"

Harry took his broom from his shoulder, leaned on it and frowned. "What do you mean?"

Draco glowered, pulling his sodden robes about him. "If you'd much rather spend time with them, then don't let me stop you!" He strode away, calling over his shoulder. "Though I warn you Potter! They're abject company!"

"What does abject mean Malfoy?" Harry snapped. "- No wait! Let me guess! Something bad no doubt! Something beneath a Malfoy!"

"Close enough." Draco replied coolly, stopping where he was several metres away. "It means poor... scummy and inferior."

Harry dropped his broom and ran at Draco like a mad dog. Draco almost tripped over backwards in fright. "You take that back Malfoy!" Harry shouted, cheeks flaming as he shoved Draco's backwards threateningly.

"Make me!" Draco wavered. "I hate them! They're nothing but a mudblood and a blood traitor and they aren't worth the dirt on my shoes!"

Young Draco had done it this time, Draco thought darkly. Harry raised his fist and threw it at his jaw, possibly because his wand was in the changing room, but it was more likely because Draco had really pushed his luck. Draco brought his arms up to his face to try and shield himself. He wasn't very good at physical fights. Despite this, he hit back, swinging a blind punch at Harry's face and catching him in the side of the head. Harry grabbed Draco's shoulders and tried to ram him into the pitch walls. Draco tripped clumsily over his own feet but aimed a kick at Harry's shins. He hit his mark and Harry stumbled, falling on his knees into the mud. Draco staggered backwards, panting heavily, his eyes wide with adrenaline.

It was quiet for a moment; the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the cold wind that was picking up, whistling through the stands.

"The worst thing is," Harry began in a growl, standing up and holding his leg. "You didn't mean it."

"I bloody well did." Draco snapped, taking another step backwards as Harry drew himself up.

Harry shook his head and went to pick up his broom. Rubbing his arm where Harry had struck and grabbed it, Draco narrowed his eyes. Harry approached him again, his eyes cold. "The fact you're still spouting that kind of dung is what disgusts me." He brushed past Draco, heading for the changing rooms. Draco watched him go, his lower lip quivering.


	7. Seven

_**7**_

The fog swallowed the Quidditch pitch and the cold rain fell no more. The Great Hall emerged from the mist and the noise of chattering students filled Draco's ears. It must have been breakfast, as Crabbe and Goyle shovelled bacon into their mouths, grunting piggishly. Pansy and Millicent were laughing at some second year Slytherin boys who had spilled pumpkin juice and were trying to clean up their mess with several unsuccessful cleaning spells. Blaise scowled at them, shuffling his Daily Prophet. Young Draco was staring at his toast morosely, occasionally glancing at Harry who was reading his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook as he spooned cereal into his mouth. There was a large space between them on the bench.

Cautiously, Draco slid up the bench to Harry. "We didn't have homework did we?"

Harry shook his head without taking his eyes from the page he was reading. Draco hesitated for a moment. "You really like the subject don't you?"

Honestly, Draco thought, he never made small talk – how embarrassing. Harry obviously thought so as he turned a page without replying. Draco cleared his throat. "You've got-" he gestured, bringing his hand up to Harry's chin where milk had dribbled. Harry rubbed his chin on his shoulder and Draco dropped his hand. "I'm sorry." Draco said through gritted teeth.

"No you're not." Harry replied shortly.

Draco's cheeks went very pink and he inhaled deeply. Apologizing was something that didn't come naturally to him. Harry picked up his book and stood up. "Besides," he said coldly, "It's not me you should be apologizing to." He strode away, leaving Draco rather alone at the Slytherin table.

The Great Hall folded outwards and trees tore from the ground, towering above Draco's head. The floor was frosty and littered with fallen leaves. They were outside Hagrid's hut and a Care Of Magical Creatures lesson appeared to be coming to a close. Draco spied Potter, Weasley and Granger chatting companionably to Hagrid, helping him put Flobberworms back in their boxes. Students meandered back up to the castles in little throngs, complaining of the cold. Young Draco loitered, apparently waiting for The Golden Trio.

"What yeh lurkin' there for?" Hagrid shouted, Potter and company turning around to look at him.

For a moment it looked as though Draco was going to run away. Clearly deciding that would be rather more embarrassing than being caught loitering however, Draco called back rather awkwardly. "I was waiting for Granger and Weasley! I wanted to speak to them!"

Ron and Hermione exchanged curious looks before turning to Harry, who was smiling. "Why don't you come over and talk to them Draco?"

"Oh haha." Draco seethed loud enough for only himself to hear, before marching over.

Hagrid put his great hands on his hips and looked down at Draco over his bushy beard. Draco scowled at Harry as they all looked at him expectantly.

"I wanted to apologize," Draco began stiffly.

"What for?" Ron demanded.

"You mean Potter hasn't told you?"

Hermione frowned. "Told us what?"

"Oh for Merlin's -"

Harry was grinning broadly by now. "Come on Malfoy."

Draco sneered before continuing. "I called you a blood traitor and a mudblood behind your backs."

Hagrid spluttered. "Why'd ya do tha'?"

"You're asking for it Malfoy." Ron spat.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I was annoyed because I'd waited for Harry and he was going to play exploding snap with you." Draco explained quickly. Harry was laughing by now and Hermione tutted.

"Honestly Malfoy." she sighed. "Harry values you as a true friend and I wish I could too -"

"I don't." Ron growled.  
Hermione ignored him and soldiered on."You always let yourself down."

Draco was very pink in the face. Harry clapped a hand on his shoulder. "He can't help it. He gets ever so jealous."

"I though' you weren't like yer father Malfoy." Hagrid mused, scratching his beard. "Harry here's always sayin' you've a heart o' gold."

Draco was now positively cerise in the face. He lowered his head and looked at the floor.

"Come on Draco." Harry sighed, a smile quivering on his lips. "I think we've humiliated you enough."

They bid Hagrid farewell and trudged back up to the castle. "I am sorry," Young Draco murmured to Granger, out of Harry's earshot. She nodded. "Tell him the same," he added unwillingly, nodding at Ron. "I'd do it myself, only I'd rather not get into a fist fight with a Weasel."

Draco, wandering behind them, was impressed. He could never in a million years imagine apologizing to Weasley and Granger.

The grounds became rich and warm and the dormitory appeared once more, its indulgent interior forming around Draco. Harry was sat cross legged, examining a piece of parchment on his bed. Snow was falling quietly outside the window and he was very much alone in the room apart from Draco; the invisible entity. Crossing the room, Draco looked at the parchment over Harry's shoulder. 'The Marauder's Map' it read, and it appeared to show the layout of the entire school, even tiny labelled dots moved through the grounds. Draco spied his young counterpart's dot coming through the Slytherin Portrait hole. Harry did not; he was tracing a hidden passageway out of the school into Hogsmede with his finger.

The door burst open and Young Draco stumbled in wearing his fur hat, coat and gloves. His face was glowing pink from the cold and he brought with him a blast of cool air. His arms were laden with boxes and paper bags.

"Prepare yourself Potter." Draco panted as though he'd been running. "I bring gifts aplenty!"

Harry, who had shoved the parchment under his pillow upon Draco's entry, grinned. Draco began sorting through his packages which he had dumped on Harry's bed. "These are from Granger," he handed Harry a paper bag filled with new quills of various colours, sweets and a leather-bound notebook. Harry smiled. Draco picked up a bag laden with brightly coloured sweets of various varieties. "From Weasley of course-"

Harry accepted it and looked inside, his eyes wide with awe. Draco lugged a box onto his own bed. "That's mine," he murmured. He then sat down on his bed and took off his hat and gloves, watching Harry take out a sugar quill and put it in his mouth. "Aren't you upset I didn't get you anything?" he asked, trying to contain some sort of excitement as he unbuttoned his coat.

Harry took the quill from his mouth and licked his lips. "Oh, Draco I didn't expect you to."

"Too bad." Draco replied brightly, hopping up and reaching into the box. "It was going to be your Christmas present, but I remembered how fascinated you were showing it to me and I want you to have it now."

He handed Harry a black box and sat beside him on the bed. The box appeared to have no seal or opening and Harry picked it up and rattled it, a curious expression etched onto his face.

"Careful!" Draco cried, snatching the box from Harry and setting it down again. "Like this," he said, taking out his wand and touching the tip to the top of the box. Harry let out a gasp as the box unfolded, revealing what lay within: a beautiful moving model of the galaxy in a glass ball. "Draco!"

"I know how much you wanted it." Draco smirked. "It was very expensive." Harry's eyes flickered upwards. "But worth it." Draco added. "Watch,"

He touched his wand to a spot on the glass and Earth was magnified, rotating brilliantly on its axis, surrounded by millions of stars. "You and I," said Draco, his eyes glassy, "In this colossal universe," he released his wand and Earth flew back to its tiny place in the solar system.

"Very poetic." Harry whispered, trying not to laugh.

Draco folded his arms. "Well?"

"Draco, I love it!" Harry laughed, grabbing Draco's face and kissing his forehead. Draco went very pink and his hand shot up to touch the spot on his brow where Harry's lips had been. Harry, rather oblivious, had carried the glass ball over to his bed side table and was securing it in place with a sticking charm. Draco's insides were warm but his heart ached as the dormitory faded into a new scene.

This time Draco saw flickering torchlight and stone walls. It was dark and quiet and he appeared to be in one of the older corridors of the castle. Looking around him, Draco saw nobody, but his ears detected a soft, sad sound.

"Shh." said a voice much like his own and there was a rustle. Potter's head appeared, resting on his knees as he sat in the dark corner. Next to him was Young Draco, his arms wrapped tightly around the boy, murmuring comforting words in his ear. As Draco could only see their top halves, he assumed that Potter's invisibility cloak had been shrouding them, concealing them in the corner. Harry spoke, his voice thick with tears and anger. "He trusted them!"  
"I know." Draco whispered soothingly.

Harry tried to stand up, the silvery cape sliding from him as he did so. "I'll kill him!"

"Harry no! Black's dangerous!" Draco hissed, clasping him tightly. "Please!"

Sitting down again heavily, Harry let Draco trap him. "Honestly." Draco tutted, "What's a twelve year old got against a murderous dark wizard? I knew you shouldn't have crept out. Why didn't you wake me up instead of exploding out of the dungeons like that? "

Harry chose not to answer that one. They sat for several minutes as Harry's ragged breaths began to slow and his face drained of its furious colour. Draco had his face pressed into Harry's neck. When Harry finally let out a tired sigh, Draco lifted his head and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Draco-" Harry began, looking at the boy with shimmering eyes. His hands had just reached out to Draco's face when a pair of lamp-like eyes rounded the corner and glared at them accusingly. Mrs Norris yowled before trotting back from whence she came to find Filch.

Harry and Draco scrambled up and pelted down the corridor, throwing the invisibility cloak over them and laughing in skittish, breathless voices.


	8. Eight

_**8**_

The corridor evaporated like smoke and became the brilliant green of Hogwart's School Grounds. Sun poured down, bright and warm, reflecting off the lake which glistened attractively. It was clearly summer: the carefree cry of students filled the air as they threw Quaffles to one another on the stretch of brilliant green lawn and paddled in the lake. Draco spotted Harry sitting under the sweeping branches of a willow tree on the bank of the lake. He was reading his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook again and smiling absently to himself. Young Draco was being taught to skip stones by Weasley, who had rolled up his trousers to dangle his feet in the water and didn't seem to know the meaning of patience. "You're quite thick Malfoy - you can't just lob great bloody rocks and hope they skip. You have to have flat ones."

"I can do what I like Weasel." Draco snapped taking out his wand. He tapped a bulbous rock, threw it and made it skip across the water seven times before it spun in the air, did a loop-the-loop plunged into the depths. Ron tutted and turned to Hermione, who seemed to be practising Transfiguration on her pebble as she turned it into a seashell, then a button. Draco, obviously bored with outsmarting Gryffindors, stood up and brushed the grass from his robes before joining Harry in the shade of the willow tree. "We've done our exams you know." Draco said, reading over Harry's shoulder.

Harry grinned in response. "I'm so happy Draco." he said quietly, closing his book and looking at the boy. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"For the first time in my life...I've got family."

"Wouldn't you say you already had family Potter? And I'm not just talking about me: King of the Slytherins. I mean Weasel and Granger, that bloody oaf Hagrid, that hideous Hippogriff and even Dumbledore's unnaturally fond of you. _Honestly…_Hasn't the Weasel clan practically adopted you despite their numerous ranks?"

Harry chuckled. "Well of course ... But there's a living adult out there – my _godfather_ – who cares for me."

"And to think we thought he wanted to kill you!" Draco sighed humorously. "Poor Black just wanted to make you a packed lunch and give you a hug."

Laughing, Harry put down his book and turned to face Draco. "You're an oddball, Draco."

"That's very rude, Potter." Draco said, slightly quieter than he'd probably meant because Harry had leaned close to him. He brought his hand up and moved a lock of Draco's blonde hair out of his eyes. The branches of the willow tree whispered excitably as a gentle breeze passed through them. Harry's thumb traced across Draco's cheekbone and he waited a moment while Draco closed his eyes and looked a bit undignified, before kissing him - very gently - on the lips.

Hermione turned around and saw them, elbowing Ron in the ribs. Almost, tumbling into the lake once he'd looked around, Weasley gaped, but quelled under the warning gaze of Granger. Harry had his forehead pressed against Draco and Merlin knows what Draco was doing. Probably crying, Draco thought, or blushing. Maybe even scowling. Who knew?

Harry kissed him a second time, just as tenderly and Hermione commented on how nice the mountains looked in the distance across the other side of the lake, nudging a goggling Weasel as she did so and drawing his gaze away.

The bright scene, rich in contrast, faded and compressed into a compartment on a September's morning. Draco, although merely a presence in a memory, wondered how on earth he could fit in the compartment with the number of people it already contained. Not only cramped, but exploding with noise and activity, it gave Draco a headache. Weasley was arguing with Granger about her over-sized orange cat. Loony Lovegood was chatting calmly with Longbottom whilst reading a Quibbler upside down. The four of them sat on one side of the compartment together. Harry was sat on the opposite side, staring out of the window. Draco sat next to him, sneering at Crabbe and Goyle who were having a 'Who Can Put a Whole Pumpkin Pasty in Their Mouth First' competition. To make matters worse, a small, twittering owl was flying circles above their heads making an incessant racket. In her cage in the luggage compartment above them, Harry's beautiful snowy owl, Hedwig, ruffled her feathers irritably.

Young Draco, bored or disgusted (probably both) with his cronies antics, turned to Harry and ran his hands through the back of his hair which had grown so long, it had begun to fall into his eyes.

"This needs cutting Potter. You're going to end up looking like a warlock." he said, leaning towards his ear.

Harry, apparently far more concerned with the rolling hills outside of the window, didn't turn around but gave a non-committed grunt.

"What's got your wand in a twist?" Draco asked, seemingly in high spirits.

Harry turned around to look at Draco. "I'll tell you later."

"Weasel and Granger know don't they?" Draco asked. Harry glanced over to where his two Gryffindor friends were having a debate on the pros and cons of Crookshanks: The Great Orange Fur-ball. Nodding, Harry looked back at Draco, and they drowned in one another's gaze for a while as the scene darkened.

Draco could make out his dormitory in the pitch black that had descended upon him. Sounds of slumbering filled the room, but Draco could hear ragged breathing and unsettled thrashing from behind the curtains of Harry's bed. Young Draco must have heard it too, as he slipped from between the curtains of his own bed and crept across the moonlit dormitory to Harry's.  
"Harry." he said in barely a whisper. He pulled the curtains apart and sat on the mattress. "Harry, you're having another nightmare."

Potter was muttering something, oblivious to Draco's words. "No." he was saying. "Leave him alone!"

Draco watched him for a moment, his head cocked to one side as he wondered what force Harry was fighting. Potter let out a sad sort of noise, and Young Draco ran a hand through his tangled hair. "Harry." he said again. "I love you, you loopy bugger."

Harry, still very much oblivious and involved in the throes of his nightmare, thrashed around again, kicking the sheets from his body. He had broken a sweat and his t-shirt was soaked. Young Draco bent down and kissed Harry's lips. Harry cried against them before sitting up, panting and clinging to his sheets. "Draco?" he said rather loudly.

"Shut up Potter, it's the middle of the night. You were having one of your funny turns again."

Harry blinked, looking odd in the darkness without his glasses. Draco captured his lips again, obviously unable to resist, and Harry sank backwards again, taking Draco with him. They lay for a while, locked in a midnight embrace, their lips making soft noises over the gentle snores of their snoozing room mates. Draco pushed Harry's mane of dark hair out of his eyes as he kissed him. Harry's hands ran up and down Draco's back as if to seek some comfort or realism after the despairs of his dreams. His hands came to rest on the back of Draco's thigh. "Draco," he said against the boy's lips, clutching him tightly. Draco made an irritated noise against Harry's mouth. "Can-?"

"Goodnight Potter." Young Draco said sternly, getting up and moving soundlessly to his own bed. "Sweet dreams."

Draco could see Harry smiling at the canopy of his bed in the dark, despite having whatever advancements he had planned rejected.


	9. Nine

_**9**_

The darkness was filed with the light of day but Draco remained in his dormitory, yet he was somewhere in future as the clutter in the room had been moved around. He had just noted the mess on Goyle's bed, when a book flew across the room, straight through him. It narrowly missed hitting Potter, who ducked just in time. Turning to see where the book had been launched from, Draco saw his young counterpart, frothing with rage.

"I trusted you!" he roared, picking up another book and hurling it in Harry's direction.

"You still can!" Harry cried, catching the book before it smacked him in the face. "I didn't put my name in that cup Draco! Why don't you-"

"Liar!"

Having run out of books at his end of the dormitory, Draco took out his wand. "You just can't stay out of the limelight can you? Merlin! How long has it been since your name was in the headlines last, Potter? Too long obviously!"

Harry swore at Draco, marching over and knocking the wand from his hands. "Why would I want to be in this tournament? WHY WOULD I WANT TO BE IN THE LIMELIGHT?"

Draco looked frightened for a moment, eying his wand on the thick carpet. "Well if I'd grown up in a cupboard under some stairs for most of my life, I think I'd jump at the chance of a bit of fame and glory."

Instead of exploding with rage like Draco expected him too, Harry narrowed his eyes and let out a nasty stomach twisting laugh. "Funny thing is," Harry began in a growl. "You didn't grow up in a cupboard under some stairs did you? You didn't lose your parents, you didn't live with family that never really wanted you there and you didn't come to Hogwarts bearing the burden of being The Boy Who Lived and also worry about what Voldemort's up to. You've had everything you've ever wanted presented to you on a silver platter bearing the Malfoy crest haven't you? So yeah, I think you're jealous. I think you want a bit of the limelight. I think you always have and you always will because despite everything you think you are, your life's just that shit."

Draco felt the sting of the words just as sharply as his junior. He'd never admit it, but they were shockingly close to the mark. Young Draco's mouth was gaping open and his eyes sparkled with livid tears. The sound of the rain, hammering against the window filled the silence as Draco's face twisted into disgust. "I hate you! I hope you die in the stupid tournament! I hate you!"

Hardly a comeback, but spat with the most bitter venom, Draco had made his retort. He swung around, snatched his satchel from his bed and hurled it against the wall. Harry strode towards the door in silent rage. It opened just as he reached it and Blaise and Crabbe appeared, looking curious about all the noise. "Watch out." Harry spat, in a low voice. "_He's_ having a tantrum."

The small dormitory stretched outwards and Draco found himself in the spot under the willow tree where Harry had first kissed him. Well, kissed the Draco that could have been. Harry was sat beneath the tree holding a golden egg. Draco recognized it as the one the champions had collected from the dragons in the first part of The Triwizard Tournament.

Instead of brilliant sunshine today however, Harry sat by himself under a cloudy sky. A biting wind ruffled through his hair. He was examining the egg from various angles, trying to find an opening. Taking out his wand, he tried several spells, to no avail. He threw his wand down in disgust and shook the egg vigorously. It remained quite unopened. Harry looked at it for a moment, his brow knitted together, before raising the egg above his head and bashing it on the ground.

"Like that's going to work." said a cold voice.

Even Draco jumped. Harry whipped around and saw Young Draco sneering down at him with a withering look. He stood with his hands in his robe pockets as the cold breeze rippled over his blonde hair. "You've always been extraordinarily dim haven't you Potter?" he drawled, laying the contempt on thick. Harry remained silent as Draco sat next to him. They looked at one another for a moment, Harry still clutching his egg. "That's the first time you've spoken to me in weeks."

"Yes." Draco replied. "But after seeing you very nearly die with that dragon I felt it was important to say something to you other than 'pass the jam _Champion'_."

"That makes you _and_ Ron:" Harry said dryly. "Both speaking to me because I nearly died."

Draco ran his hand over the grass and tore some up. "I don't think you put your name in the cup."

"What made you see sense?"

Draco shrugged. "Rational thought."

Harry laughed. "I forgive you."

"I never apologized in the first place."

Shaking his head with a grin, Harry looked back at his egg. "I'm not expecting too many miracles Draco, don't worry."

Perhaps upon hearing Harry say his name again or maybe because he'd been without him for so long, Young Draco dipped his head and kissed Harry languidly. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Harry's hands, Draco noted, stayed on the golden egg and he kissed back with slightly less enthusiasm. More importantly, his eyes were open and focused on something in the distance. Draco sensed this and broke way, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "What?" he demanded. Harry tried to avert his eyes back to Draco and assemble his features in a bright smile. Draco was too quick however and he turned to look at what – or who – Harry had been gazing at.

Cho Chang, accompanied by two of her friends was running down the hill from the castle, her long, dark hair catching in the breeze. She laughed attractively, tossing her Ravenclaw scarf over her shoulder, unaware of the eyes on her in the distance. Harry's were filled with desire, Draco's were swimming with hatred.

"I get it." he said coldly, standing up.

Harry spoke quickly. "Draco, I meant to tell you but -"

"No, don't bother explaining. I've seen you looking at her before now."

"Draco!" Harry shouted as Draco strode away.


	10. Ten

_**10**_

The cloudy outdoors sharpened into the vast space of The Great Hall. It was barely recognizable however, as it had been decorated with icicles and snow for the Yule Ball. The make-shift ice stretched all the way up to the ceiling in glass-like sheets that displayed the night sky. Draco thought it looked like a glacial cavern, as it reflected soft candlelight from its icy walls. Students floated by in flowing gowns and fancy dress robes. Draco spotted a knot of Slytherins not far from him and wandered over.

"Oh, I adore that colour on you Millicent!" Pansy Parkinson drawled in a voice dripping with insincerity. Millicent Bulstrode smiled, clearly very confident with her appearance. Young Draco was stood next to Pansy looking incredibly sour tempered. Harry, who had been called over by Blaise to be congratulated on his choice of date: Parvarti Patil, was far more interested in Cho, who was dancing with Cedric not far away.

"He's not bothered Blaise." Pansy tutted, her gaze sliding to Draco and narrowing with malice. "He's only got eyes for the Chang girl."

Draco winced at these words and his scowl darkened considerably.  
"Shouldn't you have asked her to dance already Potter? Get in there." said Theodore Nott, handing out glasses of punch. Harry shook his head, his green eyes tracking Cho as Cedric Diggory twirled her around. Draco bit in. "He hasn't the courage."

Snapping his eyes to Draco and giving him a rather filthy look, Harry retorted. "Watch me."

The Slytherins did indeed watch as Harry marched up to Cho and politely asked Diggory if he could borrow her. Shrugging in agreement, Cedric stepped back as Harry took Cho by the hand and waist.

"How repulsive." Draco muttered. Pansy was looking at him with a nasty smile.

"I think this calls for some celebration." Blaise murmured, sliding a bottle of Firewhiskey from out of his robes.

"Where did you get that?" Millicent gasped. The circle knotted closer together to conceal the forbidden article.

"Oooh, illicit drinking. I like the sound of that Blaise." Pansy drawled, draining her punch and holding out her cup for him to fill. The rest of the group did the same, giggling excitably. Young Draco rolled his eyes and watched Harry dance with Cho in the distance. As the song ended, she laughed with him and took Cedric's hand again. Potter came bounding back over looking undeniably smug.  
"Dear Merlin, fill my cup." Draco groaned, draining it and holding it out desperately for Blaise. "He's coming back."

The bright, twinkling scene of the Yule Ball faded into darkness and Draco found himself in the courtyard. It must have been the same night however as students were flocking back to their dormitories together in dress robes, laughing in flustered voices. Girls carried their dancing shoes and hitched up their dresses, pink cheeked. Boys loosened their dress robes at the collar and play-wrestled one another through doorways. Professors hurried them along impatiently. Draco saw Blaise, Theodore, Millicent and Pansy in the corner of the courtyard. Blaise and Theodore were singing a Celestial Warback song in falsetto voices as the girls shrieked in hysterics. Professor Snape swooped into the courtyard like a bad tempered bat and threatened to give them all a week's detention if they didn't stop making a racket and to get back to their dormitory.

"Yes Professor." Pansy giggled. "That's probably where Draco is, crying onto Harry's pillow."

Bloody Pansy, Draco fumed, she'd always been a bitch. Theodore guffawed loudly, moving along. "Yeah, but check the Ravenclaw common room for Potter!"  
Blaise slapped him on the back. "He might have gotten his leg over!"

Millicent snorted unattractively as the group moved on, Snape was glowering at them darkly.

Draco was alerted to a rustle in the darkness behind him and he squinted into the shadowy corner behind a stone pillar in the corner of the yard. It was a place usually reserved for the trading of Weasley products and Fillibuster's Fireworks. Yes, thought Draco smugly, Potter might have 'gotten his leg over' if he wasn't snogging the face off Young Draco in the dark crevice. Without even listening to them talk, Draco could tell they'd had more alcohol than their fellow house mates. Knowing them, they'd competed on who could drink the most. Draco had Harry up against the wall, his hands in several places at once. "I. Hate. You. So . Much." he slurred between open mouthed kisses. Harry grunted in response, his hands on Young Draco's behind, handling it rather roughly for Draco's liking.

The worst part of it was that Snape was still in the courtyard and heading in their direction. They would be caught, no doubt, and no idiot, especially not Snape, would fail to see they'd been drinking.  
Harry pulled an odd face as Draco's hands found a serviceable target. "You and me." he said. "We're going -"

Whatever endeavours Harry had planned came to an abrupt end when the silhouette of a formidable Snape blocked the little moonlight that had been illuminating their activities. "Fifteen points from Slytherin Mr Potter." he said smoothly, though his lip was curled in disgust.

"Eugh." said Draco rudely, repulsed by Snape's intrusion, he turned around and stumbled out into the courtyard, almost falling over. Harry followed him, the zip on his trousers undone.

"And another ten for your poor choice Mr Malfoy."

Harry might have been offended if he had been listening. His glasses were lopsided and he appeared to be having trouble walking in a straight line.

"I'll see both of you in my office tomorrow to inquire as to why you're inebriated." Snape growled, watching Harry try to steady himself by hooking his fingers onto Draco's belt line, much to the two boy's amusement. Snape spat. "Make yourself decent Mr Potter."

Harry looked down at his undone trousers in surprise, as though he couldn't remember how it had happened.

"Shall I do it for you Pot-Potter?" Draco hic-coughed, veering towards Harry with outstretched hands.

Snape took a step forward, his voice in a dangerously low monotone. "If you don't return to your dormitory within the next few seconds, I will do it myself."

That sent the two boys running, if rather haphazardly, back into the castle.


	11. Eleven

_**11**_

The night air became dusty and rows of bookshelves sprouted up from the ground. The Slytherin boys were sat at a table at the front of the library, supposedly doing their homework. Crabbe took a sandwich from in between the pages of his History of Magic book and began to eat it. Goyle was writing obscenities over Theodore's work whilst he strained to see what Draco had written for his essay.

"So Potter," Blaise began, a smirk playing across his lips as he leaned back in his chair. "Where did you disappear to last night?"

Harry looked up from his book, avoiding Draco's gaze. "I can't remember."

Blaise and Theodore snickered. "Can't remember indeed. Did you get Cho out of that dress?"

"Don't talk about her like that!" Harry snapped.

Draco clenched his quill tightly, desperately keeping his eyes on his parchment. Blaise held up his hands in mock surrender and Theodore went back to his work, frowning at the graphic drawings and explicit words that were dancing in scrawls around the parchment.

The scene became crowded and Draco found himself on Hogsmede platform as students prepared to board the Hogwart's express back to London for the summer. At the edge of the scene was Potter, looking as though the world rested on his shoulders. Young Draco stood opposite him, both their expressions solemn.

"Every year." Harry muttered.

"It's going to be okay." Draco said. Harry didn't seem to hear.

"Every year someone dies for me or someone tries to kill me or something else happens, just to make matters worse."

"I know." Draco whispered.

"Voldemort's back Draco. He's back."

"We can work it out Potter, Granger and Weasley too."

"We?" Harry said suddenly. "You're father was there Malfoy, I've already told you."

"I know." Draco replied rather breathlessly. "But I wasn't."

Harry shook his head as if Draco's words were childish and absurd. Draco however, was steely faced and determined. "Do you trust me Harry?"  
There was a very long pause in which Harry studied Draco intensely and Draco looked fearful.

"I do." he whispered.

The train whistled and Draco lurched forward, and then changed his mind. Harry patted him awkwardly on the back. He didn't want Draco, but they were friends. There was trust there – and something else he couldn't quite name. Something Draco valued far more than lust or desire.

The smoke from the train surrounded Draco until he couldn't see anything but steam. When it finally dispersed, he found himself in the Hog's Head. There was a large queue leading up to one of the tables where Harry, Ron and Hermione sat. Students were signing their names on a piece of parchment, whispering excitably and leaving the inn in twos and threes. Harry was looking older. He had grown into his manly jaw and his hair was cut shorter. Draco presumed it was the little club Harry started in fifth year, the one he had ploughed all his efforts into bringing down. The last person in the queue was Young Draco. He still looked babyish, but his own angular face was more defined and he seemed to have spent most of his summer growing. Again.

"Very stirring speech." he drawled, picking up the quill. Ron knocked it from his hand in an instance.

"What the Hell do you think you're playing at Malfoy?"  
Draco looked annoyed. "I believe I was about to sign this parchment."

"I don't think so. Your father was in the graveyard that night; pledging his allegiance to You-Know-Who."

"So I've been told. By Potter. By you. By my father."

Ron looked ecstatic. "You admit it then?"

Draco sneered condescendingly. "Why? You think the Ministry will believe he's back?"

"Drop it." Harry interrupted. "Give him the quill Ron."

Ron opened his mouth to protest. Hermione unfolded her arms. "Are you _sure_ Harry?"

Harry looked Draco in the eye. "Yep. If he thinks he can keep up."

With a resolute scowl, Draco snatched the quill from Weasley and scribbled his name on the parchment. Baring his teeth like a little blond dog, he looked at the trio one last time before leaving the Hog's Head, slamming the door behind him.

With the slam, the room changed again and Draco found himself in a large room, littered with students. Spells were coming thick and fast and the room was heavy with magic. Young Draco was stood by himself, watching the Weasley twins levitating a small Hufflepuff boy. By the way he was shrieking, he was in two minds about trusting them or not. The room itself was bright and open. Draco knew it must be The Room of Requirement. Not set out the same way it had been in his own sixth year, but it was catered to every need of a group of witches and wizards practicing defensive magic. Young Draco's eyes scanned the room for Harry and found him with Cho Chang, raising her arm to the right angle as she formed a protective bubble around her friend.

The mannequin in front of Draco lost its head quite randomly, and Draco, face pale with fury, lifted his wand to make it look intentional. Potter crossed the room towards him and Draco growled, low in his throat. With a slash of his wand he tore the dummy's stuffing from its insides.

"It's mainly defensive magic we're focusing on Draco." Harry said cautiously as the fluff from the mannequin flew into the air.

"Sorry." Draco barked with another slash of his wand, cutting the entire mannequin in half. He lowered his wand and adopted an expression of indifference. "I heard you're with Chang. When did that come about?"

Draco tried to make his voice politely inquisitive, but it came out like repressed madness.

"Christmas." Harry replied, his eyes fixed on Draco's wand which was slack in his hand. For the moment.

"We're going to be practicing Patronuses next time." said Harry offhandedly.

"Wonderful."

Harry nodded and moved towards the Weasley twins and the boy they were now throwing into the air with cries of "Oopah!" and "You're flying Nigel!"

"Nice cardigan by the way Potter!" Malfoy called. "Very … macho."

Potter blushed and turned away. Oh yes. No matter what, Draco could always get at that four-eyed git.

The room erupted in silver and green and became the familiar darkness of his common room. Carved chairs rested in corners and extravagant couches filled with students placed around the fireplace. The room was grand and welcoming with torches flickering lazily in chandeliers above their heads. At the centre of the dark wood and silver and green décor, Potter was stood looking grumpy.

"Excuse me Pansy."

"No darling! Tell me what the matter is! You've been miserable all week!" Pansy cried, blocking Harry's way.

Young Draco, Theodore and Millicent smirked spitefully in unison. Honestly, thought Draco, what a nasty bunch they were.

Harry tried side-stepping Pansy. "I'm tired. I was hoping I could just go to bed-"

"He's broken up with Chang." Theodore Nott hissed. "She accused him of an affair."

There was a chorus of cackles. Harry blushed. "She did not _accuse me of an affair_. She thought I spent too much time with my friends."

"Doesn't sound like a very nice girl does she?" Millicent sneered.

"She cried too much anyway." Harry added, clearly ashamed that his relationship had fallen apart.

"Lucky for you, Uncle Blaise has just the remedy." Blaise crooned, producing a bottle of mead from his robes. In his own past, Draco had often found Blaise in possession of alcohol and various other contraband items. He only usually brought out his illicit goods however, when some form of manipulation or blackmail was due or he was in dire need of it. His excuse was often that celebration was necessary, comfort was needed or he'd simply found it in his robe pocket and what better time than the present to indulge in prohibited acts?

Pansy rubbed her hands together and rounded on the younger students who were playing exploding snap by the fire. "Right! Off to bed! Clear off!" she ordered, snatching the cards from them and waving them away.

"You can't tell us what to do!" said a pig-nosed third year girl.

"Can't I? You're in the presence of prefects!" she retorted in a mocking voice. "Draco darling! Tell them what for!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh yes," he said in a bored voice. "You've all got a week's detention."

There was an outcry of protest from the gang of students. Several older witches and wizards who had been sitting quietly in pairs slunk off to bed before the attention was turned on them. No one messed with Draco Malfoy's domineering mob.

"Go to bed then! Shoo!" Pansy cried as Crabbe and Goyle squeezed through the portrait hole.

"But it's only quarter past nine!" a boy whined petulantly.

Crabbe and Goyle lumbered up to Pansy, cracking their knuckles and eager for some action. The students shied away and hurried up the staircases to their dormitories. Millicent guffawed in appreciation.

"You're ruthless Pansy, you know that?" Draco drawled.

Blaise and Nott were already sitting on the carpet trying to uncork the fat bottle. Pansy and Millicent joined them, looking excited. "Sit down!" Pansy ordered.

They sat obediently, forming a circle. Nott pulled the cork from the bottle of mead with a loud pop and almost bowled himself backwards. Blaise slugged the liquid greedily before Nott snatched the bottle from him, doing the same. He gasped and thrust the bottle at Draco who took a long steady drink. By the expression on his own face, and from past experiences, Draco knew it tasted absolutely foul. The bottle was then passed to Millicent, who downed almost as much as the boys then Pansy, who sipped and coughed dramatically, pulling faces of revulsion. Then she handed it to Harry. "No thanks."

"Honestly Potter, you're such a wet nose." Nott slurred.

"I don't think that's a real expression." Draco smirked.

Harry snatched it and sipped, wrinkling his nose before passing it to Crabbe and Goyle, who fought over the dregs.

"Give me that." Pansy snapped, snatching the empty bottle from them and placing it in the centre of the circle. She was on a mission tonight, thought Draco.

"Dear Merlin, Pansy no!" Blaise slurred. The mead was strong and Blaise had had more than his fair share.

"Not this game again! I had to eat seven specially selected Bertie Bott's Ever Flavoured Beans last time!" Nott wailed.

"Shut up you two." Pansy bit, smirking. "You're going soft."

She spun the bottle on the polished wooden floor. "I'll start." The bottle began to slow down until the neck was passing Draco, then Goyle, then Crabbe. It stopped halfway between Pansy and Potter, more towards Pansy if truth be told, but she veered away from it. "Potter!"

Draco thought it odd that Pansy was deliberately avoiding claiming it. There was nothing Pansy loved more than a saucy dare. More than once in his own past, Draco suspected her of foul play when the bottle stopped on her and Draco four times in one game and she had dared herself to kiss him each time, sticking her tongue far into his mouth unashamedly.

Pansy spun the bottle again, looking hopeful. Draco saw his Young Counterpart's face fill with dread. He clearly didn't want his dare to involve Harry; things seemed ill at ease enough between them already. The bottle span all around the circle, passing Draco as it slowed and stopped at Millicent. Pansy looked slightly disappointed but Millicent could barely mask her delight.

"Alright Potter, give her a big kiss."

"WH-What?" Harry spluttered, but before he could protest, Millicent had thrown herself over Pansy and attached herself onto his face. The circle erupted with laughter and even Draco smirked appreciatively. Potter looked as though he was having his face hovered off. "Alright Mill, that'll do!" Pansy squawked, the weight of the girl crushing her. Millicent sat back down, looking triumphant. Potter gasped for air, rubbing at his mouth with his sleeve.

Pansy's game got progressively more entertaining. Crabbe was made to crawl around the common room on all fours, carrying Blaise on his back. Draco had to let Millicent put lipstick and mascara on him. Theodore had to sneak into the girl's fifth year dormitory, put a lacy, bright pink, matching set of bra and knickers on from Pansy's trunk and come back downstairs to give Pansy a lap dance. Nott had his revenge however, and Pansy had to flash him wearing a pair of Crabbe's boxers. Tears of mirth streamed down the group's faces as Harry was forced to awkwardly strip his t-shirt off for a disgusted Goyle.

Despite his full face of rather pretty make-up, Draco was laughing so much he didn't notice the bottle stop on him again. "Draco." she grinned. She spun the bottle again and Draco was in peels of hysterics. "Merlin I can't take it."

"I've never seen you so jolly Draco." Nott remarked, still in Pansy's underwear. "I'm putting mead in your pumpkin juice every morning."

This seemed to tickle Draco even further but he wiped his eyes when Pansy cried "Blaise!"

Draco looked at her expectantly. "Alright darling." she said to him. "Seen as you're looking so pretty, you have to kiss Blaise."

As she said this, her gaze slid sideways to Harry. If it wasn't for this, Draco wouldn't have realized. As it happens however, Draco and his young counterpart twigged at the same time.  
Pansy knew all about Harry and Draco, and she was playing them like fools. What a scheming, little -

"That's gay!" Crabbe roared.

"Well we all know Draco's a little queer." Pansy retorted. Draco tittered drunkenly.

"What about me? I'm not!" Blaise cried defiantly.

"Well we all know you're up for anything darling." she added. Blaise shrugged in agreement.

"Good thing he looks so pretty."

The entire circle, apart from the exception of Harry laughed. Draco, drunk and elated or maybe spotting the stormy expression that had suddenly clouded Harry's face, edged towards Blaise on his knees. Blaise wasn't bad looking. In fact, he was quite the opposite, and Draco would have kissed him any day if things like that came with less consequence and fuss. Blaise was looking up at Draco's face with an anxious expression etched on his own. "Hello." he said.

The circle spluttered. "Hello." Draco replied. "I'm going to kiss you now."

More laughter. "I hear Draco's a very good kisser Blaise. You're in safe hands." Pansy sniggered.

Draco turned around and looked at her. "I don't know where you heard that Parkinson but it's certainly true."  
"Talk about polishing your own broom." Nott remarked.

"I'll polish your broom if you don't look out!" Young Draco quipped, much to the appreciation of the circle. He was thriving with the attention and praise. All eyes were on his young counterpart, Draco noticed, and he loved it. He had Blaise at his mercy, sozzled and waiting for his first gay experience with a silly expression on his face. Harry was watching him with what could only be described as blinding jealousy and Pansy was waiting with bated breath, a nasty smile on her face as she eyed Harry, then Draco, then Harry again.

Young Draco focused on his performance, determined to give them a good show.

Merlin, did he do just that.

Running his hands over the dark skin on Blaise's face, Draco leaned down and kissed him, slowly. Millicent squealed in surprise. Draco opened his mouth and tilted Blaise's chin to one side so as to get a better angle. Blaise's eyes were wide open in shock. He wasn't gay and never would be, but thanks to Draco's tongue sliding against his own and his hands running over his short hair, Blaise's eyes began to slide close. Young Draco's audience was spellbound in silence, the only noise in the room were the sounds of Draco's mouth against Blaise's. Draco took the opportunity to slide his kisses down Blaise's jaw and into the crook of his neck. He stopped at his collar bone, making a mark there. "Did you want me to stop at all Blaise?"

Blaise snapped his eyes open. "Done!" he cried absently. The circle laughed again and Pansy actually gave them a round of applause. Their appreciative noises wee so loud that they might have not heard the mead bottle smash, but it blew into shards so suddenly, everyone cried out. All eyes turned to Harry, seen as he was the only one whose breathing was irregular and face was flushed red. There was a certain way, Draco had noticed, that Harry's glasses sat on his nose when he was angry. Draco should know better than anyone. They were sat like that now. A sadistic smile crept onto Pansy's lips.

"I'm going to bed." Harry said shortly, standing up and leaving the room.

Young Draco, his face twisted with malice and delight, planted a comical kiss Blaise's forehead in triumph.


	12. Twelve

_**12**_

The room faded into darkness and Draco found himself in his dormitory once more. It must have been late as all the boys were asleep. Crabbe snored heavily, Nott was sprawled at an odd angle, Goyle grunted, Blaise lay still, breathing deeply. Harry's curtains were drawn. Young Draco was sat cross legged on his bed, reading a letter by wand-light. Even in the dusk, Draco recognized the parchment as the expensive kind his mother used. Draco's face was set in a frown as he read and re-read the letter. Suddenly there were stirrings from Harry's bed. "Nox." Draco hissed, extinguishing his light quickly.

The stirrings however, remained behind the curtains as Harry apparently thrashed around. Then the noise started a pitiful, child-like whine. Draco tore out of bed. "For Merlin's sake."

He pulled open Harry's curtains and sat on the bed. "Wake up idiot." he snapped. Harry twitched in his sleep. "Wake up or I'll -"

Harry propelled forward, gasping as he woke up, straight into Draco's arms which outstretched automatically. "It's okay." Draco soothed his voice immediately gentle.

Harry squinted at Draco in the dark, catching his breath. His eyes were fixated on Draco's as he got his bearings. "It's okay?" Harry repeated.

Draco nodded and held him close, his arms tight around the boy who lay weak in his arms. "Nightmares again?"

"Voldemort."

"You're not using Occlumency are you?"

"Have you ever tried using Occlumency?"

Draco fell silent, just rubbing circles on Harry's back and letting him be comforted. "I'm so tired Draco." Harry said quietly, and Draco knew what he meant. Lowering him back down onto the pillow, Draco stroked his hair. "Shh." he said, repeating it over and over in Harry's ear until the boy's eyes closed and he drifted back into oblivion.

The room became bright and wide, filling with light and activity. Draco was back in The Room of Requirement and (most) spirits were high. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Cho Chang were wishing Harry a Happy Easter. Draco scowled at them as he stood in the middle of the room with his wand.

"We'll write Harry." said Granger smiling. "Make sure you stay on top of things." she added firmly, probably referring to Occlumency.

"Sure you can stand two weeks with him?" said Ron, nodding his head at Young Draco, who was kicking his shoes at the ground. He looked like a naughty child that had been made to wait at the end of class.

"I'll be fine." Harry replied, hugging Hermione and patting Ron on the back. "Have a good Easter."

He waved out his many students until he was alone in the room with Draco. "Right." he said.

"I'm sorry." Draco said quickly. It turned out he was a naughty child who had been made to wait at the end of class. "I just got frustrated and she was laughing at me."

"Don't worry about it." Harry replied, crossing the room to Draco. "She wasn't that cross and Pomfrey can grow her eyebrows back in a second."

Draco wondered whose eye brows had suffered against his junior's wrath. "Look," Harry began, "It's no use knowing all these defensive spells if you can't do a Patronus -"

"Spare me the lecture Potter! Just because I'm _slightly_ slow on the uptake -"

"Draco, everyone else could cast a Patronus a month ago -"

"Maybe I don't want to cast a stupid Patronus!"

"Grow up!"

Draco was hurt. I looked as though he might snap his own wand for a moment. Harry sighed and began again, more softly. "I know you can do this."

Draco, who had never been able to cast a Patronus himself, wondered if Harry could help his young counterpart. It looked unlikely.

Harry tried _everything_. He got Draco to close his eyes and focus ten times over. He cheered when a tiny blue wisp appeared from Draco's wand, he tried making him laugh, he begged him to concentrate, all to no avail. Eventually he brought out a boggart, but when that turned into Voldemort and Draco screamed blue murder, Harry had to put it away and rethink his strategies.

"Okay." Harry breathed, pale in the face and clutching a trembling Draco. "I didn't think that one through."

"Just face it Harry." Draco muttered. "I'm a born coward."  
"You are _not_." Harry hissed, shoving Draco away from him. He circled him once before stopping in front of him. "Close your eyes."

Draco did as he was told, shutting his eyes, standing there with his wand and looking sorry for himself. Harry lifted his wand arm. "Okay now focus."

Draco focused. He furrowed his brow; eyes still closed and gripped his wand. Harry circled him. "What memory are you using?"

Without hesitation, Draco replied."When you first kissed me. In third year. Under the willow tree."

Harry smiled fondly, eyes glazing as he remembered it. "Tell me about it. Why did it make you feel happy?"

"It was summer... You were happy. I was happy...Everyone was happy. It looked..."

"Yes?" Harry said encouragingly.

"It looked like _everything_ was going to be okay."

They were silent and still for a while, reflecting on the past. "Draco, think of that. Remember how you felt. Let it consume you."

Young Draco closed his eyes to remember and Draco saw it with him.

"_I'm so happy Draco._" Harry had said to him. Yes. Draco had been happy too. _Laughing, Harry put down his book and turned to face Draco. "You're an oddball, Draco." _

"_That's very rude, Potter."_ Draco had never been offended. _The branches of the willow tree whispered excitably as a gentle breeze passed through them. _Draco could hear it now, as though the willow tree were in the room. Draco wouldn't be surprised if it was. The Room of Requirement gave you what you needed and Draco needed to be back in that place. _Harry's thumb traced across Draco's cheekbone and he waited a moment while Draco closed his eyes and looked a bit undignified, before kissing him - very gently - on the lips. _In that moment, Draco had felt as though nothing could ever bring him to despair. His spirit soared and he was certain that this was what he'd been waiting for. He had been only fourteen, but it was his happy ending.

"Expecto Patronum." Draco said.

Harry was silent. Young Draco opened his eyes. Gliding through the room like a ghost in the mist was a beautiful doe. Her eyes were wide and fearful as she sailed like smoke on the breeze. They blinked dolefully. Draco saw the eyes were his own.

"Expecto Patronum." said Harry.

Harry's Patronus, a mighty, silver stag shot from his wand and joined the doe. Not a sound filled the room. The two danced around one another, gliding around the room as though they were dancing. They kicked at one another, gnashing their teeth in a coltish manner as they circled the room.

"Oh." said Young Draco, lowering his wand. The doe dispersed into mist and Harry's stag stopped, its eyes blinking, looking cheerless and alone. Harry dropped his wand. The stag vanished.

To Draco, this represented what he had done by altering the past. Before the haunting memory of the Patronuses could break Draco's heart any more, Harry spoke.

"Well done." he said quietly.

"Thanks." Draco replied. He pocketed his wand, took it out again, then put it back in his pocket.

Harry left the room quickly without another word. The door slammed shut as he left, reverberating off the walls of the near-empty room. Draco swore. "Well done Draco indeed."

The bright, open room faded once gain into the dormitory. Draco was so accustomed to it he knew it was coming before the four poster beds had even materialized. It was dark in the room and almost empty. It must have been the Easter holidays as only Potter was asleep in his bed, the curtains open, his t-shirt off and the sheets around his waist. It had been a warm spring. Then Draco saw his young self, sitting on his own bed. He had his chin rested on his knee, watching Potter sleep. It was odd for him to be awake so late and even odder for him to be at Hogwarts and not home in the holidays. Something at home was keeping Draco at school. Maybe Voldemort lurking in the corridors of his own home or his father's stern, urgent suggestions or his mother's frantic encouragement or talk of the prophecy or the gathering, leering Death Eaters, his demented aunt, the dark plans...

Harry turned over, swinging his arm over the edge of the bed. He looked peaceful. Perhaps he would sleep easy tonight. No sooner had Draco hoped for just that, Harry twitched. Young Draco noticed it too and raised his head from his knee. Harry's twitched once more. Draco frowned as though this was unusual. Then Harry jumped from his bed with a hoarse shout, running halfway across the room before Draco scrambled after him and caught him in his arms.  
"Merlin Harry!" Draco breathed.

Harry's eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance. Draco looked petrified. Harry froze, moving his head to one side as if listening for something in the silent dormitory. He was almost reptile like with his bright green eyes.  
Draco reached his hand out to touch his face. "Harry."

Harry moved so quickly, if Draco had blinked he'd have missed it. Hitting Draco's hand away with incredible force and twisting his arm around his back, he pushed Draco to the floor. All Draco could manage was a strangled yelp as Harry held him trapped, listening again. Apparently something else caught his attention as he stood up and began crashing through the room, tearing at the curtains and ripping duvets from their beds. Draco had never seen anything like it. Potter snarled like a wild animal as he smashed and threw whatever he could get a hold of. Young Draco scrambled up, rubbing his arm and tripped to his bed side table. Grabbing a glass of water, he ran up to Potter and threw it in his rabid face.

Immediately, Harry awoke with a cry. He blinked and wobbled precariously, looking around him. His eyes took in the trashed dormitory and Draco's terrorized expression.

"What-?"

Draco shoved Harry roughly, just to make sure he was awake, but also because he'd been so frightening. "What in Hell's name were you dreaming about?"

"A - a corridor. I was - I was so angry. I was so angry." Harry babbled.

"Why?"

"I was Voldemort! I was -!"

Draco caught Harry as he slumped to the floor. He was too heavy however, and he had to lower him down awkwardly. "Harry its okay, you're awake now."

"I'm evil! What If I'm becoming him? I already attacked Mr Weasley!"

"Shut up you idiot." Draco snapped. "You didn't even attack the Weasel's father in the first place."

Harry struggled out of Draco's grasp. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." Draco lied.

Harry breathed deeply for a while, still unsure of himself. He was sat on the floor like a child with Draco's arms wrapped around him. The amount of nightmares he had chased away was unreal. "We'll put this right okay?" Draco said. Slowly tearing himself from Harry's desperate grasp, he fetched his wand from his bedside table.

"I like your pyjamas." Harry said absently as Draco crept across the room in his silky green night clothes. His pyjamas were overly formal next to Harry in nothing but his boxers, and Draco looked a bit silly really, in an endearing kind of way. Young Draco set about repairing the tears in the curtains and remaking the beds with magic. When he'd cleaned the mess, he fetched a towel from the bathroom and brought it to Harry's face. Gently, he dried it of the water he'd splashed there, rubbing the towel over Harry's chest where the water or perhaps just Harry's anguished sweat had collected. Throwing the towel in the laundry basket, Draco turned on the gas lamp by Harry's bed, making it burn on a low flame so it gave the room a less threatening, dim glow. Finally, he helped Harry up and shoved him back into bed, fluffing his pillows and airing the bed sheet.

Harry sighed. "I love you so much." he smiled, closing his eyes as Draco laid the cool sheet over him.

"Don't say things like that." Draco replied sternly, running his hand over Harry's brow. Potter frowned. There was silence for a moment as Draco brushed the hair from Harry's face. Potter wouldn't be soothed however and he was frowning thoughtfully. "Did you know that the Patronus represents the soul?" he asked quietly.

Draco was silent for a while, his hand still as it rested on Harry's scar. "Yes." he replied eventually.

"That's why mine is a stag and yours is a doe."

"Don't talk like this Potter. Please." Draco said suddenly, his voice pleading

Harry sat up, pushing himself towards Draco. "Why? What are you afraid of?" He made a grab for Draco's hands.

"This is more than a snog after the Yule ball." Draco snapped, tearing his hands away. "And we aren't thirteen; watching the world go by on a summer's afternoon."

Harry shook his head. "That doesn't change anything!"

"Yes it does!" Draco wailed. "It changes everything!"

Harry threw his arms around Draco, holding him close. "Stop it!" Draco protested. "I can't love you like this!"

"Please Draco." Harry hissed. "If you don't love me now you might never get a chance."

Those were the wisest words Harry had said, thought Draco, and how bitterly true. Young Draco had his eyes closed, a million conflicting thoughts running through his head, several arguments being prepared. None of them would win. He didn't fight as Harry lay him down in his own bed. He didn't open his eyes until Harry had sat astride him and was bending down to kiss him so tenderly their lips barely touched. Draco reached up and put his hands on Harry's bare shoulders, where the world rested. Could he take any more weight? Harry unbuttoned Draco's silly, fancy pyjama shirt, kissing the pale skin he exposed as he went.

"Harry I don't think I want -"

"It's okay. I just want … I just want you to be close to me."

They lay together, bare skin and trembling bodies, holding each other close. Harry ran his hands over the pale canvas of Draco's exposed back. He kissed it, he pressed himself close. If they weren't here, with their bodies together, they'd fall to pieces surely. Draco closed his eyes, shutting out everything but the touch of Harry's hand, the feel of his lips on his own bare skin, the way his heart fluttered as their bodies craved more and more contact. Draco turned to face Harry, pressing against him and feeling their hearts beat together, both racing with fear and exhilaration. Harry lowered his hands and they crept below Draco's silky waistband.

Draco let out a gasp, his hands gripping Harry's shoulders.

"Are my hands cold?" Harry asked, stopping suddenly.

Eyes tightly shut, Draco shook his head. "No." he whispered, letting a breathless laugh escape him.

Wavering slightly, he followed Harry's lead and lowered his hands into Harry's boxer shorts. Harry kissed him hungrily in encouragement. Together, their hands moved, pressing kisses onto each other's faces, whispering promises in the other's ear. Harry groaned into Draco's neck, his muscles seizing and Draco's eyes snapped open, fear alive within them. Harry felt his trepidation and turned to face him.

"Are-"

Draco's cheeks flushed pink. "No your hands aren't bloody cold. Just don't stop."

It was over as soon as it had begun and Draco lay against Harry, clinging to him tightly. Harry's arms were wrapped around Draco. He pulled the sheet over them, but didn't loosen his grip. Pressing a kiss against the side of Draco's head, he let out a sigh. All was silent deep in the dungeons, but the gas lamp flickered as the boys clutched one another to guard them from the nightmares they might face.

"Draco?" Harry said suddenly into the boy's neck. Draco made a confirmatory sound.

"Why was your Boggart Voldemort?"

Draco lifted his head from where it was buried in Harry's neck. "That's a _really_ stupid question Potter."

"No seriously. _My_ Boggart wasn't even Voldemort."

Young Draco was silent for a moment, his head still slightly lifted as he thought. "What would you fear more, a Hippogriff in your back garden or a Hippogriff in the room with you?"

"Neither." Harry replied. Draco waited, ignoring him.

"Alright, fine. The Hippogriff in the room."

"Why?" Draco demanded.

"Well it's in the bloody room!"

"Exactly. Would you still be afraid of the Hippogriff in the garden?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Well not as much, but yeah."

Draco spoke quickly, his voice venomous. "Well that's how it is. The Hippogriff in the garden could probably get in if he tried, but there's a lot protecting you from it. You also have the chance to run, even fight. The Hippogriff in the room with you is in your home. He's looking right at you. He's burrowed himself into your family, rotting it to the core, and your family are the ones who let it inside in the first place, through fear or adoration it doesn't matter. You know if you upset that Hippogriff, he'll kill you, no second thought, and no chance to run."

"I'm guessing the Hippogriff represents Voldemort." Harry said dryly. "Clever analogy."

"Not really. Hippogriffs aren't twisted, they aren't Leglimens, they aren't hungry for power and they aren't hell-bent on killing Harry Potter and eradicating the world of Muggles and Muggle-borns and raising wizards to their rightful place."

Harry could only laugh at Draco's bitter tirade because the accuracy of it was too great for comfort.

"Well we haven't lost yet."

Draco snorted, more scornfully than in amusement. "You keep telling yourself that Potter." he muttered and pressed his face back into Harry's neck while he still had the chance.


	13. Thirteen

_**13**_

The dormitory became bright and Draco remained there, but he was further ahead in time no doubt. It was probably evening again and not the holidays, as Crabbe was lounging on his bed, Goyle was sat in the middle of the floor, begging Blaise to help him finish his essay for tomorrow. Blaise was refusing, eating a sugar quill on his own bed and looking bored.

"Where's Potter and Draco?" asked Nott. He was rooting around in his trunk, trying to find something at the very bottom. He had put an expanding charm on it in Draco's time and at some point in this past so it was bigger on the inside like tents at the Quidditch World Cup. Spacious as it now was, he never found anything.

"Probably eloped and married." Blaise replied. "They had two weeks to themselves over Easter didn't they? No doubt some adulterous behaviour took place."

Nott sniggered. Crabbe grimaced. Goyle tore his parchment in half in exasperation.

At that moment, Draco opened the dormitory door and walked through, closely followed by Harry who had his hands in his pockets.

"Where've you two been then?" Nott asked casually. He'd now gotten inside his trunk, and was wading through books and inkwells.

"Library." Draco sniffed, smoothing a crease out of his bed sheets and sitting down. Harry threw himself on his own bed and picked up Quidditch – A Seeker's Guide.

"Of course." Nott replied. The other boys chuckled.

Draco frowned; Harry turned the page of his book.

"You've missed a button on your shirt Draco." said Blaise. Draco brought his hand up to check in panic but let it fall when the boys erupted into hysterics. They were goading him of course.

Blaise took his sugar quill out of his mouth. "You know with exams only a week away, you two should be studying more and shagging less."

Draco's cheeks burned pink. "We are not _shagging_-"

"Grow up Blaise." Harry muttered. He turned his book sideways to admire a moving picture.

"You don't really hear them denying it though." Goyle added.

Draco swept into the bathroom with several scathing comments about the quality of the other boys' lives and their intelligence levels.

The room compacted itself into a tiny rattling space and Draco found himself in one of the Hogwart's Express Compartments. Young Draco was scowling out of the window, rolling his wand back and forth between his hands. Harry was sat opposite him with dark shadows on his face. His eyes were red and his sticky up hair seemed almost defeated, with only one or two sorry-looking tufts refusing to lie flat. He watched Draco with imperative eyes, rubbing his hands on his jeans.

"I think I've left one of my books with Ginny," Hermione began loudly. "I might need it for homework." She stood up and stepped towards the compartment door, sliding it open. "Come on Ron."

"Why do I need to come with you?" Weasley frowned, flicking through his chocolate frog cards and eyeing Harry with concern.

"Ron." she snapped and Weasley followed reluctantly. The door clicked shut and Harry and Draco were left alone. Harry leaned forward, "Draco."

"We're done talking."

"I had to. Even if I'd have seen _Ron's_ dad there I'd have given his name."

"I don't want to discuss this anymore Potter." Draco retorted curtly. He glanced at the door. Harry fell forward onto his knees in front of Draco, resting his hands on Draco's legs. "Please Draco, listen to me."

Draco pulled himself away. "What are you so afraid of Potter?" he snapped. Harry frowned, reaching out to Draco's face. Draco pushed him away, hard. "You don't want me to leave you when I'm angry because I might make a rash decision when I get home."

"I don't know what you mean-"

Draco sneered, "I might forget where my loyalties lie."

Harry shook his head again, leaning close to Draco once more. He brushed a lock of blonde hair out of Draco's face. Breathing heavily in anger, but still for a moment, Draco sat and waited, trying to rouse more strength. "Draco." Harry pleaded, his lips tried to meet Draco's but the boy turned away. The door opened and Pansy stood there looking unimpressed.

"Draco darling, I thought you were going to sit with us?" she drawled, her eyes narrowed at Harry who's hands were still on Draco's face.

"I intended to." he replied, standing up and reaching for his case. "I'd prefer to as well. It doesn't do to travel with beggars."

Pansy smirked appreciatively and let Draco step through the door. Before closing it again, she glared at Harry who sat on the seat alone, his fists clenched. "And to think he called you his friend." she snarled before slamming the door. Harry rested his head in his hands and the scene faded into rich, still darkness.

He was in his dormitory again, alone with his counterpart. Draco thought _he_ had looked bad in sixth year. Young Draco looked shocking. Compared to the well presented boy he usually was, Draco now looked as though he had spent his summer in a cave. His eyes were haunted and shadowy and he was thinner; something which didn't suit his tall frame. His skin, once just pale, now seemed almost translucent. He unpacked his case carefully, his hands trembling. Once he'd reached the bottom, there were only several pieces of parchment and paper left. A Daily Prophet cutting of his father's arrest stared up at him: the picture of Lucius Malfoy blinking painfully, a photograph of his parents: both adorned in finery and smirking at one another and the camera, a stack of letters and a crumpled photograph that Creevey had taken of Harry and Draco in the library in second year. The boys looked up from the book they had been reading together and blinked at the flash. Draco's photograph self made a furious snatch for the camera. Young Draco looked at the photo for a moment, his expression unreadable. His fist closed suddenly around it and he threw it back into his case, ripping out the stack of letters before throwing his trunk under the bed. He stared at the letters with venom. Then he threw them onto Harry's bed and charged into the bathroom. Considerably moved and concerned by Young Draco's actions, Draco crept towards the letters on Harry's bed. They spilled out of their string holding and Draco could make out what some said.

**Draco,  
I think you've got every right to be angry, but so have I. Your father was wrong. Your aunt killed Sirius. I don't have any family any more. You still have yours.  
Harry.**

**Draco,  
I thought we were friends.  
Actually – I think we were a lot more than friends. I don't know what's going through your head right now, but it might help to put quill to parchment and reply to me.  
Harry**

**Draco,  
I miss you already and I'm still furious with you. If I saw you right now I wouldn't know whether to kiss you or punch you in your stupid face.  
Harry.**

**I shouldn't be writing to you and I shouldn't feel sorry. I've never felt like this before.  
Draco please. Write to me. Tell me anything.  
Do you know how I feel? Do you know what it feels like? You don't! My Godfather is dead; Voldemort's back and I really thought you'd care!**

**Draco,  
It's been raining for three days. My aunt's glad of a break from the sun. My uncle's glad for a reason to complain. My cousin's bored out of his tiny mind and he's discovered a new game called 'Get Harry into Trouble'. He's locked himself in his room and at least twice a day, he shouts accusations that I've used magic on him or started a fire in the toilet. I wonder if I actually did either, would he find the game as funny?  
On the third day of rain, the sun came out and there was this beautiful rainbow. The clouds around it were still grey, but they looked nice because the light had kind of gotten through them, giving them this weird silvery glow. They looked so heavy, but light at the same time. Know what I mean? The colour of the clouds reminded me of something and I immediately thought of your stupid, stubborn eyes. I didn't bother looking at the rainbow after that.  
Harry**

Before Draco's eyes could scan over anymore of the many letters, the door opened and Harry walked into the empty room, His eyes immediately fell on Draco's neatly arranged things then the letters on his own bed. He wandered over to them, lips pressed together. Harry was practically a man. He looked edgy and distracted, but he was all shoulders and jaw. Picking up the letters and flicking through them, he exhaled bitterly.

The room spread outwards into a bright golden space with high, stained windows and rows of shining faucets above a huge pool-like bath in the centre of the room. Young Draco was in the middle of a sea of lemony bubbles, looking forlorn as he bowed his head, turning in slow circles. The door opened and Potter strode in, dropping his robe.

"Merlin." Draco cried, covering his eyes.

"Oh calm down." Harry retorted bitingly as he lowered himself into the bath. "Nothing you haven't already seen, held, or put in your mouth."

"You're repulsive." Draco spat. "And the last time I checked this was a Prefect Bathroom."

Harry fiddled with the taps, filling the water with berry red bubbles that spread over the lemon ones like a weed.

"The last time I checked you _always_ let me in here." he replied, swimming in languid circles. Draco turned away from Harry and swam towards the far end of the bath. Harry was hot on his heels, swimming up close to his face and stopping. He took off his glasses and put them on the tiles. Draco lowered his pale body further under the bubbles, scowling at Harry's nerve.

"Enjoying your bath?" Potter inquired.

"I was."

Harry smiled his eyes unfocused without his glasses. Draco's expression darkened as Harry splashed his face clean with water. "Pass my glasses please? I'm feeling considerably cleaner."

Draco handed Harry's glasses to him reproachfully. "Thank you." Harry said shortly, putting them back on his face. Before Draco could lower his hand and swim away again however, Harry grabbed his left arm and twisted it towards himself. In most circumstances, Draco would have lost this fight, overcome with rage however and Harry's audacity, His right fist flew into Harry's face, turning the berry-coloured water a deeper, swirling red.

"Ah!" Harry gasped, bringing his hands up to his face. "I dink dat's de second dime you'b broken by nose dis year Malfoy!"

Draco wasn't listening; he'd already clambered out of the bath and wrapped his towel around his waist. "You make me sick." he spat. "What were you expecting to find -" Draco called Harry something colourful. "-something to condemn me so I end up like my father?"

Harry was bleeding all over himself, wading through the bath towards his wand and robe. Draco walked towards it first, kicking them both into the water, and throwing his towel in after him. "You'd better stay away from me." he warned before flying from the room.

The airy space became the dark, shadowy room that was Professor Snape's office. Harry and Draco stood before Snape's desk, their heads bowed, and expressions stormy. Snape was glowering at them both, his black eyes glinting furiously. "Physical fighting in an open corridor at sixteen." he spat. "Of all activities."

"I think there's something rewarding about it personally." Harry retorted, glancing at the gash above Draco's eyebrow.

"Detention Potter." Snape snapped.

"I would have thought we already had detention." said Harry.

"Oh you do Potter. A great deal of it, but since you are so fond of speaking out of term like the arrogant fool you are, you shall receive that little bit more."

Harry scowled. His face was bruised and his lip was split. He licked the blood that trickled from it absently. Snape flexed his fingers irritably, making a note on a piece of parchment before him.

"If I find out this has happened again, there will be dire consequences. Am I making myself clear?"

Draco murmured something. Harry nodded curtly.

"Potter, go to Madame Pomfrey and ask her for her strongest Dittany to heal your wounds. Perhaps the sting will help you learn to behave like a mature sixteen year old. Malfoy, remain behind."

Harry glared at both of them before stamping out of the office, shutting the door loudly behind him. Draco looked uncomfortable.

"Draco." Snape began quickly in a low, pressing tone. Young Draco shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flitting towards the door of the office. Snape continued. "I urge you to rethink your decision. Allow me to explain to him you were-"

"I don't want to talk about this Professor." Draco cut in, his eyes swimming fearfully.

"Think of your mother Draco, she is fraught with concern. If I were to speak to him, you might be allowed-"

"When's my detention Professor?" Draco asked firmly.

Snape closed his mouth and his eyes steeled.

The darkness obliterated and Draco found himself in the explosion of celebration that was the Slytherin common room. Apparently, someone had thrown a party; Draco wouldn't be surprised if it was Pansy. The students were all singing along to a well known Wizard ballad, waving their arms dramatically and screwing up their faces with over emphasized emotion. Blaise was knelt on one knee, serenading Crabbe. Pansy had her arms around Nott, pretending to sob as she sang along. A group of second years were waving their lighted wands in the air in unison and a seventh year couple were slow dancing on one of the plush sofas. Draco located his younger self in the corner, watching the scene with a detached glaze in his eyes. Harry was stood on top of one of the tables in his Quidditch gear, dancing with his broom, much to the amusement of a gang of fourth year girls. Perhaps he had just won them a match.

"Come on Draco!" Blaise shouted over the music. "If anyone needs to lighten up it's you." He snatched Draco's hand and pulled him into the heart of the room, trying to get him to wave his arms.

"This is humiliating." Draco muttered.

"Give him a kiss Blaise!" Pansy called. "That'll cheer him up."

Draco tried to duck as Blaise planted a kiss on his cheek. "He's having none of it." He shouted back.

Pansy put her hands on her hips. "Crack a smile Draco or I'll be kissing you!"

Draco grimaced and tried to escape. "Watch out Draco! Everyone wants those lips of gold." Nott teased, pouting his lips playfully. Daphne Greengrass giggled. "I'd kiss him."

Pansy made an appreciative sound and Blaise wolf whistled. Draco's cheeks were burning a fierce pink. Harry stopped dancing with his broom.

"You've got a taker darling." Pansy trilled, wrapping an arm around Daphne. "She's very pretty too."

She was very pretty, but Draco had never looked more uncomfortable in his life. Pansy whispered in her ear and pushed her forward. Harry clambered down from the table and joined the small audience of people who'd grown bored of the ballad and the dancing. Draco looked around, almost frantic as Daphne approached him, she was tall for her age with flowing brunette hair that fell in waves around her face. Blaise let out an out of character giggle and Pansy snorted with him. They were making fun of him again. Draco's eyes darted towards Harry who stared back with a cool expression and folded arms. "He doesn't kiss girls." he bit. A small group of people greatly appreciated this joke, none more so than Pansy. She wiped tears of mirth from her eyes.

"Oh cut the nonsense Potter." Draco retorted, boiling with rage. He ran a hand through Daphne's hair, surprising himself. Then, carefully calculated, he leaned down and kissed her softly. She was only young, so he made it short and sweet, but this seemed to get at Harry more than a heated snog. Potter picked up his broom and stormed out of the portrait hole.

"You're an oddball Malfoy." he called. Draco looked as though he'd been punched in the stomach, everyone else chattered excitably to Daphne.


	14. Fourteen

_**14**_

The room shifted and Draco was almost blinded by the whiteness of the scene that materialized before him. He was out in the courtyard, snow falling in large flakes onto the already white surfaces. Young Draco was walking the perimeter of the yard like a caged animal, making tracks on the crisp surface. Round and round. Soon his tracks were joined by another set as Harry walked with him. They were silent for a long time, walking together until the edge of the yard was nothing but slush. Draco stopped, catching his breath. His cheeks and nose was pink from the biting cold. Harry watched him for a moment. "You know I couldn't bear to leave you alone for Christmas." Harry said softly.

"Well I'd have much rather you had." Draco replied, though he didn't sound very convincing. "Isn't Weasel upset that he can't kiss you under the mistletoe?"

"Not really. What about Daphne? Didn't she invite you to her house for a Holiday wedding?"

"Well that's one of the more extravagant rumours I've heard, along with the one where I asked her to transfigure herself into a boy on Friday night." Harry laughed dryly. Clearly the subject wasn't very humorous to him either. Draco smirked.

"You needn't worry Potter. I haven't spoken to her since that night and I don't intend to."

"I wasn't worrying."

"Of course you weren't."

Harry kicked the slush with his feet. "You know," he began in a tense voice, "For all I know you could be planning to kill me as we speak."

Draco laughed. "You found me out! I was going to drown you in the snow!" Harry ploughed on. "But I can't keep away from you." He took a step closer to Draco, who took a step back. They repeated this action until Draco's back was against the courtyard wall. "I wish I knew what to say." Potter sighed. "I wish I knew how to make everything clear."

"Like the sky after it's rained for three days and the sun breaks through and the clouds have a silvery glow that remind you of my eyes and there's a rainbow that you don't really look at?" Draco added.

"You did read my letters then."

"Maybe."

Harry reached out to touch Draco's face but Draco caught his hand. "Not yet."

Lowering his hand and stepping backwards, Harry nodded. "I'm here. Whenever."

The snow became a flurry, and when it cleared, Draco saw the familiar layout of his common room. It was late: the silver clock above the carved mantel piece showed it was twenty to three in the morning. Only Harry and Draco were left in the room. Harry lay snoozing on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Only a few burning embers remained and they bathed him in an orange glow. Young Draco was sat in the armchair a fair distance away, watching Harry sleep yet again. He ran his hands over his face, bringing them to rest in front of his mouth. "I hate you Potter." he whispered through his fingers, his eyes blurred. Harry murmured something in response. Draco stood up and crossed the room to the staircase up to the dormitory. He walked up it, leaving Harry alone in the room. Minutes later, he returned carrying something crumpled in his hand. He knelt in front of Harry's slumbering face and gently shook him awake.

"Hello." said Harry, his green eyes focusing on Draco's grey ones.

"I didn't get you a birthday present for your sixteenth, Scar-head." Draco murmured.

"I've never forgiven you." Harry replied.

Draco smirked. "Remember how cross you were in second year when I broke Creevey's camera and told him I'd kill him if he developed the picture."

Harry smiled.

"He did develop the picture, but he had the decency to give it to me so I spared his life."

Laughing, Harry sat up and made room on the sofa for Draco to sit with him. He did so, handing the crumpled picture to Harry. "I remember this day." he smiled. "You didn't know who the founder of Hufflepuff was."

Draco furrowed his brow. "Well Blaise told me it was an old man who was so fat he had to levitate himself everywhere and Nott told me it was a talking bear so you can't blame me for being unsure."

Harry grinned warmly. "So we looked it up in Hogwarts: A History and Creevey came over, attracted by all the bickering."

Draco nodded, watching himself in the photograph. "Didn't you ever listen in class Draco?" Harry asked, sounding unbearably like Granger.

"Not often." Draco admitted. "Happy Birthday anyway."

Harry looked at the photograph for a while, smoothing out the creases as the fire died in the hearth. "Thank you." he whispered.

Draco stared into the soot in the fireplace, fiddling with the sleeve on his left arm. Harry continued watching the photograph before eventually tucking it into the pocket of his jeans. All was silent for a while as both boys lost themselves in their thoughts.

"Draco?" Harry said suddenly. Young Draco turned to face him quickly. "Can I see your left arm? Please?"

Draco blinked in surprise, perhaps at the directness of the question. He thought for a moment, looking deep into the vivid green of Harry's eyes. "You prying arse." he spat, though he sat quite still. "Fine." he sighed. He held out his left arm and Harry took it. "Thank you." Harry said quietly.

Gently, he rolled up the sleeve of Draco's jumper. His eyes flitted to Draco's momentarily before he unbuttoned the shirt cuffs at his wrist. First one. Then two. Draco swallowed as Harry turned the pale forearm over. There, burnt into the flesh in an ugly welt, was a lightning shaped scar. Harry stared and stared at it. Draco waited for the questions, but when none came, he spoke. "I refused the Dark Mark." he explained. "I thought he would kill me, but my mother threw herself at his feet and begged for my forgiveness."

"Draco..."

"He told me if my loyalties lied with you, everyone should know. He gave me this." Draco spoke in a monotonous voice. "He told me to join your ranks when I went back to Hogwarts and prepare myself for his wrath when he met me again, after his victory, where he wouldn't be so forgiving."

Harry reached out his finger and touched the pink, zig-zagging line. "It doesn't hurt. Anymore." Draco explained. "I can't get rid of it though, which is rather annoying to say the least."

"Draco..." Harry said again.

Draco's breath hitched and he closed his eyes. "If you wanted to kiss me Harry, I'd do it now."

Harry closed the distance between them in an instant. His hands clasped Draco's face as he kissed him full on the mouth. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's back, squeezing all the air out of him and clinging desperately, for fear he might be taken away. They pushed their lips together with such force, they would surely bruise. Draco, watching them, weakened by what he had seen and heard, could feel the electricity and the magic bristling in the air. Harry stood up, barely able to break contact with Draco. He pulled him upwards, kissing him as often as he could as they made their way across the room and up the stairs. Draco followed them, far past feeling intrusive.

Kicking the door to their dormitory open, Draco grunted. Harry pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor before he pressed his lips to Draco's again, letting him fall backwards onto Harry's bed. Draco undid the buckle of his trousers with trembling hands, pushing them off himself and kicking them onto the floor. He pulled his jumper over his head and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, his fingers slipping. "Harry." he whined. Harry grabbed the collar and ripped the shirt open, laughing breathlessly when all the buttons flew to the floor.

"...expensive." Draco gasped, as Harry pulled it from his shoulders and threw it across the room. Draco unbuckled Harry's jeans, struggling with the muggle set-up. His urgent desire aided him however and Harry shimmied out of his trousers and joined Draco on the bed, kissing him deeply, pressing him into the mattress. His glasses slid from his nose as a sweat broke out on his face. Cursing, he fumbled to catch them but Draco snatched them away and dropped them on the bed, running his hands down Harry's chest. Harry leaned into Draco's touch. He sat up, running his hands down Draco's torso and hovering at his boxers. He waited inquiringly.

"Come on!" Draco snapped, pulling his own underwear off and spreading his legs rather uncouthly. Harry grinned and leaned down to kiss him enthusiastically again, ripping his own boxers off and tossing them onto the thick carpet. Draco wriggled beneath him, urging Harry onwards.

"I think it might hurt" Harry said against Draco's cheek, cradling Draco's legs and pressing their groins together. Draco let out an illiterate string of nonsense at this new found pressure and ordered Harry forward, turning himself over and sighing dramatically into his pillow.

Harry was careful. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated his efforts on Draco, who squirmed in discomfort and hissed abuse at Harry as he adjusted himself to the pain. Draco let out an anguished gasp. "You dung headed arse face!"

Harry laughed breathlessly. "That's a good one."

Draco groaned into the pillow as Harry held him tightly, ignoring the insults and pressing damp kisses into the back of Draco's neck. Harry moved cautiously with painful slowness and it wasn't until Draco let out a loud, pleasurable moan in place of a complaint that he knew he was doing something right. Harry groaned into Draco's back. "Iloveyousomuch." he garbled against Draco's skin.

"I love you too but if you stop moving I'll kill you." Draco breathed. Harry did as he was told, moving into Draco carefully and sliding a hand down to his crotch. With every thrust he was rewarded with a delighted cry from Draco, who was clinging fast to his pillow. "Draco, I love you." Harry said again, kissing the skin between Draco's shoulder blades. Draco's eyelids fluttered and he arched his back in ecstasy. "Harry." he whined. "I love you."

Harry closed his eyes and moved quickly as Draco let out a strangled cry. Harry held him as he shuddered, quickly kissing his cheek. Seconds later, he let out a gasp and did the same. Draco's hand reached back to find Harry and when Harry saw the scarred flesh on his wrist, it was all he could do not to cry.

Instead, he collapsed next to Draco as they both caught their breath. Draco swore quietly. Harry ran his hand down Draco's back, tracing his spine with his fingertips. Draco pressed his face into the pillow and groaned. "How long have you wanted to do that?" he asked Harry, turning his face towards him. Harry pushed the hair off Draco's sweaty brow. "Too long." he replied. Draco shifted himself, feeling around under his chest. He produced Harry's glasses and put them gently back on the boy's face.

"Thank you." Harry whispered for the third time that night.

"I'm afraid I may have made a slight mess on your sheets." Draco said apologetically before yawning.

"Don't-" Harry yawned too. "Don't worry about it." He smiled lazily, kicking his legs in the rumpled sheets and pulling them over both their bodies. He kissed Draco's hand and closed his eyes, drifting into sleep. Draco watched him for a long time, keeping his eyes wide open in the dark. Before long, he could fight sleep no more and his eyes slid out of focus and closed.

The room filled with light and stretched outwards and upwards as The Great Hall emerged from the darkness. It was early morning and a few students were eating breakfast at their house tables, reading The Daily Prophet or scribbling at their homework. A glance at the ceiling told Draco it was no longer mid-winter, as the sky was clear and a rich baby-blue. Young Draco was sat at the Slytherin table, alone aside from a seventh year boy and two of Daphne Greengrass' friends who were glaring at him with dislike. Draco ignored them and toyed with his toast, picking the crusts off and arranging it centrally on his plate. Slowly, the hall began to fill as a few more students milled in to eat. Harry was among them, he slid along the bench next to Draco.

"Morning Early Bird." he said, pouring himself some pumpkin juice. "I was hoping to rouse you with a kiss but you'd already gone." he added playfully.

"Don't be stupid." Draco muttered.

Harry drank his juice, eying Draco over the brim of his glass. "You're toast is going cold."

"I'm not hungry."

"What's got your wand in a twist this morning?"

Draco pushed his plate away with such force it made a loud scraping noise against the table and several curious eyes flicked towards him. "What do you want me to do? Skip through the corridors singing?"

"That'd be funny-"

"Grow up."

"You."

Draco was about to stand up and leave the table when his eagle owl swooped from above as the day's post arrived. He landed on the table with a letter in his beak. Draco snatched it quickly. "Bloody heel would you!" Draco snapped as his owl hopped on his shoulder, pecking at strands of his hair to punish him for his shortness. "I'll stuff you and mount you on the wall if you carry on." The owl spread his wings, deliberately flicking them in Draco's face as he flew away again. Harry snorted into his cereal. Flattening his hair, Draco put the letter in his robes.

"Aren't you going to read that?" Harry asked.

Draco scowled and wiped milk from Harry's chin roughly. "I already know what it says."

"When did you become a Seer?"

"When did you become such an annoying prat?"

Harry shrugged. "Too much exposure to you."

The last remark seemed to pass Draco's attention. Instead, he nibbled at his toast, his eyes glassy. Harry watched him. "You're keeping a secret."

"You sound like such a girl." Draco sneered.

"No I mean it." Harry continued, lowering his voice. "I don't know what it is with you. We're so close but we're so distant-"

"You should really find a career in poetry Potter."

Harry soldiered on. "I can barely trust you."

"I'm not the only one who keeps secrets." Draco hissed. "You're always talking to Weasley and Granger in hushed voices. When I turn up, the Weasel makes a loud comment about Quidditch like he thinks I'm as stupid as him-"

"Don't talk about him like that-"

"What about your meetings with Dumbledore all year, hmm?" Draco added venomously. "For all you tell me you could be baking cakes with him."

Harry's hand tightened around his spoon. "You know I can't tell you things like that."

"_Why?_"

Draco waited, but all Harry could do was clench his jaw in response.

Draco smirked vindictively. "I'll tell you something shall I? Lay my cards on the table so to speak?" Draco stood up."You can spend Easter with the Weasels because I'm going home."

Harry sent his bowl crashing to the floor when he stood. "What?"

The professors and students alike eyed Harry warily as he stood by the Slytherin table clutching a spoon, his eyes fixed on the doors Draco had already swept out of.

As the open air became apparent and his vision filled with smoke, Draco began to worry. He was on Hogsmede's platform and his younger self was talking hurriedly to Pansy. Draco edged closer to hear them.

"-and you're definitely sure Draco?" Pansy asked, her eyes filling with tears.

"Oh don't be so emotional." Draco snapped. "Just promise me you'll write and tell me about him."

Pansy sniffed thoughtfully. "Of course." Young Draco nodded, his gaze sliding behind Pansy to the edge of the platform. Draco turned around and saw Harry, his arms folded and his eyes piercing. He shook his head slowly at Young Draco, who ignored him and turned back to Pansy. "See you soon."

"Let's hope!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. Draco patted her back awkwardly, his eyes fixed on Harry before he broke away. "Good luck." said Pansy as Draco boarded the already moving train. She watched as it pulled away from the station.

Harry crept up to stand behind her, his eyes following the Hogwart's express as it faded into the distance. "Weasel didn't ask you back to his shed for Easter, Potter?" Pansy drawled without turning around. Harry ignored her, watching the train round a corner and vanish from sight. He spoke in a low, gravelly voice.

"If he comes back to Hogwarts alive, we had all better start worrying."

Draco agreed wholeheartedly and watched the scene fade into darkness. He was in the Slytherin dormitory again but there was no telling of time: the lack of windows made it impossible to tell. The room was in darkness but no one was in their bed. As his soon as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the door opened, bringing with it a dim light. A figure stepped in and closed the door, shrouding the room in blackness again. "Lumos." said Harry. Draco wasn't at all surprised when he headed towards the trunk at the base of Young Draco's bed and lifted the lid. His blood boiled on behalf of his junior. This aspect of Potter had always irritated him: Overly inquisitive and far too intrusive for his own good. Draco was happy when the door opened and Young Draco stood silently in the doorway. "Looking for anything in particular?" he asked coldly, a distinct edge to his voice.

Harry, who had been so engrossed in sifting through the contents of the trunk, jumped and dropped his wand. The light on the end of it went out and the room was dark again.

In a second, Draco had pulled out his own and Harry had scrabbled for his on the floor. The darkness lit up with flashes of spell-fire as both boys shot and deflected. "Expelliarmus!" Draco snarled and Harry's wand flew out of his hand and across the room. He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat and grabbed Harry by the collar of his robes. "Lumos." he said and the light of his wand was thrown over both of their faces. There were no physical scars visible on Young Draco's face, but for all the pain in his eyes there might as well have been a thousand. "Draco. I-" Harry began. He made no attempt to fight. Though he'd barely need to have tried and he would have won. "No." Draco snapped. "You stay away from me." He let go of Harry's robes and watched him pick up his wand scramble from the room.

The darkness melted away, giving way for the library where Young Draco sat, not really reading, but staring at a book in front of him. At the table near his, Harry sat with Ron and Hermione, folding his parchment several ways. "NEWTs will be the death of me." Hermione wailed exasperatedly, flicking through a book with her quill behind her ear.

"I wouldn't worry Hermione." Ron said, making blue bubbles rise from his ink well and float in the air. "Chances are we won't be here next year anyway."

"That's no way to think Ron." Hermione snapped. Ron shrugged.

"It's probably true though. Right Harry?" Draco's eyes moved from the pages of the book to the trio's table. Harry shrugged; his eyes flitting to Draco whose eyes then returned quickly back to his book. Hermione sighed tersely. "You'll be sorry Ron."

"I won't. Look at Fred and George. They did alright with no NEWTs."

"Yes, but they had a talent."

"What are you trying to say?" Ron cried indignantly. Young Draco's chair scraped back loudly and Ron's ink bubbles burst, leaving his face speckled with blue. "Prat." he hissed, glaring at Draco as he stood up. Harry watched as he left the room, his face pallid and undeniably terrified.

"Harry." said a grinning Colin Creevey, who appeared at their table. "Dumbledore wants to see you. It's urgent." Harry stood up quickly. Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances.

"Thanks Colin." Harry replied stiffly, grabbing his things.

"No problem." Colin replied. "I like you're spots Ron." he added. Ron scowled and rubbed his sleeve over his face.


	15. Fifteen

_**15**_

Draco had a rather ominous feeling of déjà vu as the scene dissolved and a new one took its place. When he saw the familiar setting of the Astronomy Tower, the blood in his veins ran cold. Young Draco stood like a washed out rag doll next to his Aunt and several other unfriendly acquaintances. Snape stood before Dumbledore with his wand raised. Draco knew what was coming before the spell had left his lips and he had the most overpowering urge to pull out of the Pensive.

"Avada Kedavra." Dumbledore fell, already dead, from the tower, and the world slowed on its axis.

Bellatrix let out a shriek of delight and the dark figures made their way down the steps, pulling Young Draco in their wake like a dark, gravitational force. Before Draco could follow them, a figure tore from nowhere and tripped after them, glasses glinting in the moonlight, wand held outwards at the ready.

Draco followed Harry, who followed them, through the castle and out of it, down the steep jagged path to the edge of the grounds. Young Draco was slower in this past. Whatever punishment he had faced upon his return home had taken its toll. He could barely run and mostly stumbled down the hill.

Quite quickly, he fell behind the group, whimpering and clutching his sides. This only meant a furious Harry caught up with him sooner. Harry ran at him like a charging bull, tackling him to the floor and sending them both tumbling halfway down the hill. "Draco!" Harry said thickly when they came to a stop in a crumpled heap. He pinned Draco, who didn't seem to be putting up much of a fight, to the floor. He wept uncontrollably, feebly lashing out at Harry's face. "Shut up and stay down." Harry hissed, standing up again and pelting down the hill.

Draco stayed with his junior who he saw couldn't have stood up if he'd tried. He lay sprawled on the grass with one of his legs bent at an odd angle. He moved his head to the side and rested his cheek against the damp grass to watch Harry in the distance with Snape. He murmured something barely audible and tried to drag himself to a sitting position.

"You can't have him as well! I won't let you!" Harry's voice cut through the darkness. Young Draco groaned, falling back again onto the cold ground. "Harry." he moaned. Draco could see Harry now sprawled on the ground in the distance. Snape disappeared into the tree line of the Forbidden Forest, leaving Harry to stumble back up the hill, clutching at his torso and wincing in pain. "You idiot." he said as soon as he was close enough for Draco to hear him. He fell on his knees at his side, closing his hand around the fist that Draco threw at him. "You idiot."

The steep hill in the night evaporated like smoke and Draco found himself by the bedside of Young Draco in the Hospital Wing. The curtains were drawn around him and he lay in hospital pajamas. Harry was bent over him, pushing the hair off his forehead. "I'm sorry." Draco whispered into the silence. Harry put a finger to his lips to quiet him. The window above the bed let the light of a full moon bathe them in a silvery glow. "What will you say when they start to ask questions?" Harry asked. Draco closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I don't know." There was silence in the wing and no one moved to break it. Harry leaned his face close to Draco's ear.

"I still love you." Draco stirred uncomfortably and frowned, wrapping his arm around Harry's neck and holding him tightly. "I love you too, you interfering git."

As the scene dispersed like smoke, Draco knew things would soon turn sour. An unfamiliar place appeared before him and he found himself in the bedroom of a grand Wizarding house. It was traditional and almost certainly a Pureblood establishment. Draco could tell by the emblematic medieval detail on the ceiling and of course, by the moving portrait of a slumbering dragon, flicking its tail, mounted on the wall.

Young Draco was sat on the bed, looking rather small and insignificant. He put his hands on the sheets, straightening a crease in the linen. Quite suddenly, the door burst open and a house elf, ancient and adorned in an old pillow case, ran at him in a fit of ecstasy. Draco stood up in surprise and the house elf latched itself to his leg. "Gracious Master Malfoy!" it crooned in a guttural voice. "At last a Wizard worthy of the most noble house of Black."

"That's Kreacher." Harry explained, standing in the doorway. "He's not very fussed on me but something tells me he'll like you."

Kreacher detached himself from Draco's leg and bowed low, his long, squashed nose touching the floor. "Kreacher: at your service, Master Malfoy."

Draco blinked in surprise. "Thank you." he said quietly.

Harry entered the room. "Kreacher, will you go and make Draco something nice to eat?"

Kreacher practically flew from the room."At Kreacher's pleasure. The Potter boy is not to have any of Master Malfoy's food. Master Malfoy needs feeding up."

Harry closed the door behind him and joined Draco at the window where he watched a bright summer's day come to close in a beautiful sunset."Harry, I shouldn't be here." Draco said stiffly. "Shut up. You'll be okay here." Harry said sternly. "I'll see you at the start of seventh year. Maybe even later this summer." said Harry. Draco continued to look out of the window at the street of Grimmald Place below. "Shall I bring you anything when I come?" Draco shook his head. The door banged open again and Kreacher scuttled in, balancing several trays. "Friends of Potter and half-blooded filth dwell in Mistress' house!"

Harry grinned. "I'll have to remind him to knock. And they're here to make sure I don't get killed Kreacher."

Ignoring him, Kreacher tripped towards them. "Kreacher has found the pantry restocked! The Potter boy cares for Master Malfoy's welfare!"

"He does." said Harry, watching Kreacher lay the trays on the bed and dance around excitably. Draco looked at them blankly.

"You can go now Kreacher." Harry said once Kreacher had finished. Kreacher looked crestfallen. "Thank you." he added quickly.

Kreacher bowed out of the room, his eyes on Draco as he shut the door. Draco picked up a teacup full of tea and held it in his hands before sitting on the bed. "They work quickly don't they?" Draco murmured. "Our House Elf never worked fast enough for my father."  
"Well Dobby works at his own pace now. He's a free elf, so he likes to remind us all." Harry sat down next to Draco and they both admired Kreacher's spread for a moment. "Do you think your parents are okay?" Harry asked.

"Probably not."

Harry picked up a bun and plucked the currants out of it. "Don't be so messy Potter." Draco scolded, putting his teacup down and snatching the bun away. He put the bun back on the plate, tutting at the crumby mess Harry had made. "Are you going to school next year?" Harry asked, watching him. Draco stared into his cup and snorted disdainfully. "I can't see that happening."

Harry nodded. "You're not the only one."

Draco put his cup down on the tray and turned to face Harry. "Where are you going?" he demanded.  
"Draco, I-"  
"I don't need you to tell me any of your stupid secrets, Potter. I just think you ought to be careful. A great big, lumbering idiot like you might-"

Harry crashed his lips against Draco's, upsetting one of the trays and a pot of tea. Draco didn't bother to complain about the interruption or the mess. He kissed Harry back with an aching urgency, absently clutching a handful of the other boys t-shirt as if frightened he might dissolve into thin air. The setting sun poured through the window and soaked the room in a warm, golden glow. Harry's hands were cupping Draco's face again - something they often seemed to be doing - and he groaned as if in pain against Draco's lips. The door banged open once more and Kreacher scampered in with a pillow. "Kreacher brings the softest pillow in the house for Master Malfoy's treasured head!" he croaked, oblivious as the boys broke apart. Harry stood up.

"Well at least I'm leaving your treasured head in good hands." he smiled. Kreacher fluffed the pillow and placed it carefully on the bed. He then gasped at his trays of food.

"Master Malfoy has not eaten!"

"I was just getting around to it." Draco replied consolingly, lifting a soggy sandwich from the pool of spilled tea. His eyes met Harry's as he headed for the door. "I'll see you soon?"

"Soon." Harry nodded firmly before leaving and closing the door behind him with a snap.

The sunset filled room faded into a dark hallway. A quick glance around told Draco he was still in the unfamiliar Pureblood house. He was beginning to think this was Black's house. That would explain why Harry was able to leave Draco here: he must have inherited it after his death.

The hall was shadowy and dark. What appeared to be a curtained off square of wall was placed near the front door. Just as Draco was beginning to wonder what lay behind it and why he was alone, the front door was opened forcefully and a familiar trio burst inside.

"Draco?" Potter shouted. Granger whacked him with a small purple bag.

"Shh! For Merlin's sake Harry!" She hissed. "We've been away weeks. Anyone could be here!"

"You think Malfoy's let some Death Eater pals in?" Weasley asked, still catching his breath.

Draco noticed they were all dressed in formal Wizarding robes, though they looked rather flustered and out of breath as though they'd run into some trouble. Knowing them, thought Draco peevishly, they probably had. Draco guessed they'd just escaped from the Weasel wedding the Death Eaters had gate-crashed in the summer. Granger lifted her wand cautiously, but they all jumped a foot in the air when Kreacher appeared in the doorway at the end of the hall. He let out a terrible groan.

"The Potter-boy brings filth into his Mistress' house again! Blood traitor and Mudblood alike-"

"Kreacher, who's here?" Harry snapped.

"Aside from Kreacher Master Potter?"

"Yes."

"And aside from Mud-"

"Kreacher, I order you to answer me." Harry barked.

Kreacher hung his head and sloped towards them, grumbling miserably. "Just Master Malfoy." The trio let out sighs of relief that Kreacher quickly interrupted. "Poor Master Malfoy!" he wailed suddenly. "He won't eat and he won't move!"

Harry took a step forward. "What?"

Kreacher put his hands over his wrinkled face and clutched his bat-like ears, his voice rising to hysteria. "Kreacher has tried to comfort him but he sends Kreacher away! Kreacher is following his orders to care for Master Malfoy but Master Malfoy will not allow it! Kreacher is failing his orders! Orders from Potter: Friend of Filth and Riffraff-"

Harry cut in shortly. "Kreacher, where is he?"  
"Attic, Master Potter."

Harry bounded up the stairs two at a time, closely followed by Granger and Weasley (and Draco of course). "It might be a trap Harry." Weasley puffed. Draco followed them up the stairs and across another hall.

"Keep your wands ready then." he retorted, jogging up a dusty stairway and opening a chipped door. He took the rickety steps beyond this two at a time before he bounded into the attic. The room above was a huge expanse of bare floorboards touching rafters that stretched up to the ceiling. It was empty aside from one or two crates and trunks and the hunched figure sitting on one of them. Draco was positioned opposite the window, watching the last of the sun disappear over the horizon.

Harry waved Granger and Weasley away silently and crossed the room, heading to where Young Draco was sat like a stone sculpture, and joining him.

"Draco."

Draco reached into his robes and pulled out a piece of familiar parchment. He smoothed the creases out of it before passing it to Harry without a word. "What is it?" Harry asked, unfolding the parchment and scanning it.

"She's dead. You-Know-Who killed her." Draco said in a listless voice. "Father says it was tragic timing. Apparently he was furious and she happened to be in the way. I say it's my fault."

"Your mother?" Harry gasped, looking up from the parchment at Draco's gaunt face.

"If I hadn't have rebelled, failed him and then disappeared she'd never have been a target. He wouldn't have felt so undermined."

"Draco, no!" Harry began, trying to pull Draco towards him.

"Don't you understand?" Draco snapped, shoving Harry away roughly. "This is the end! He's won!"

"Draco stop!" Harry pleaded, clutching Draco's face, looking into his raging eyes. "Think about how many people he's taken from me! From everyone! He's not finished yet! If you give up now then you're dead too. This is barely the start Draco. More people are going to die because of him!"

Draco shook his head slowly. His lower lip trembled and tears threatened to spill from his eyes grey eyes. When Harry kissed his forehead they did, spilling down Draco's cheeks. "It feels like the worlds ended. I know." Harry whispered. "But it hasn't. You can't let him win."

"But he's taken her away from me!" Draco wailed. Then he couldn't stop. He sobbed uncontrollably over Harry's shoulder like a worn-out child. Harry held him tightly, stroking his back and whispering to him soothingly.

Draco, watching the scene from a shadowy corner of the attic, shivered involuntarily, thoughts of losing his mother making his mind turn black and his heart feel leaden. Eventually, Young Draco fell silent, breathing deeply against Harry's shoulder as though he was sleeping. "Sorry about that." he said heavily.

Harry laughed. "It's alright. Though Kreacher's frantic worrying about you."

Draco groaned. "I'll apologize to him."

Harry stood up and held out his hand. "Come on, we'll go together."

Just as Draco took it, the attic blurred into an indistinguishable haze and another room appeared before him. He was still in the Pureblood house in a room empty aside from a threadbare sofa that Young Draco was sat on. A new moon shed light into the room, bathing the heart of it in a soft glow but leaving the corners in sinister shadow.

Young Draco was staring at a wall illuminated by the moon that bore a family tree. Draco studied it with his young counterpart who seemed familiar with its winding branches. There was his mother, her beautiful face painted alongside her sisters: Aunt Bellatrix and Andromeda Tonks. He was there, branching from his mother and father. They all looked noble painted onto the gilded wall. There was Harry's godfather too, though his face was scorched away. What a small world it was for a wizard. It took both Draco's a while to notice Harry stood in the doorway.

"Don't loiter Potter." Draco said softly, his eyes still tracing the branches on the wall. Harry entered the room and sat with Draco on the worn settee. He studied the wall too, his gaze coming to rest on Sirius' name. "Do you know why his picture was burnt like that?" he asked.

"Eloped with Gryffindors didn't he? Far too bold and rebellious for the noble Blacks." Draco answered dryly.

Harry smiled. "He went to live with my father you know. Ran from his twisted family and found refuge with my dad."

"Two Gryffindors Potter. Just in case you're trying to draw any likeness to our situation. I can wager your dad and him weren't sha-"

"Don't." Harry snapped. "I'm just saying I'm here for you."

"God knows why."

Harry was quiet for some time, watching Draco watch the wall. Though there was nothing to see really, the portraits were still and the names remained unchanged. Harry shifted closer to Draco and ran a hand through his hair. Draco's eyes closed and he tilted his head back as Harry pressed a kiss against his neck. "You'd better live through this Potter." He murmured. "If I find out you've died, I'll kill you." Harry smiled as Draco turned towards him and kissed his lips. There was an awkward cough from the doorway and both boys reluctantly turned to address it.

"Er, Harry," Ron said stiffly. "Hermione says to make sure you get as much sleep as you can because we're up in a few hours."

Harry sighed. "Yeah. I will, don't worry."

Weasley nodded and left. Draco scoffed. "What she thinks you'll be having it away until dawn?"

"Draco!" Harry laughed scandalously. Draco pulled Harry towards him, laying his head on his lap. "No having it off I'm afraid, Potter." Harry chuckled tiredly. "No putting the ladle in the cauldron. No screwing. No fornicating." Harry smiled, his eyes closing tiredly as Draco stroked his hair, wide awake and alert. They stayed that way until the horizon began to glow orange. The scene became hazy and the shadowy hallway rose up in its place. Granger and Weasley stood at the door, waiting to leave. "Harry come on." Weasley sighed.

"One minute. One minute." Harry replied breathlessly, standing on the bottom stair. "Draco!" Kreacher pattered in from the kitchen, a gold locket hung around his neck, his fingers wrapped around a hot poker from the fireplace. "Kreacher." Harry said. "Where's Draco? He wasn't there when I woke up this morning."  
Kreacher grinned. "Master Malfoy has told Kreacher to make you leave. Kreacher quotes directly: 'If Potter doesn't bugger off, you can burn him or something,' and Kreacher is most eager to obey Master Malfoy like the Potter-boy told him to."

Harry looked downcast. "Harry come on." Granger said softly. "No one likes goodbyes." Kreacher advanced on them threateningly. "Alright." Harry snapped. "Alright I'm going." He stamped over to the door taking a deep breath. "But you tell him I'll see him soon."

"Kreacher will!"

The trio joined hands and opened the door.


	16. Sixteen

_**16**_

The hallway misted over and a kitchen came into focus, a long table stretching through it. Young Draco paced around it, wringing his hands. There was a loud crack and Kreacher appeared on the kitchen table, jumping up and down frantically. "Today! It is today! They have fought into the night already and the Dark Lord has sent in his forces! Kreacher is most unsettled!"

"Calm down!" Draco barked, catching the hopping elf and holding him still. "Its alright." he said, though his eyes were almost as wide as Kreacher's large ones.

"Ohh, Master Malfoy cannot go! Kreacher is to keep him safe!"

"Potter never told you to trap me here did he?"

Kreacher sat down heavily on the table and rocked back and forth. "Kreacher is to keep you here."  
Draco bristled. "Well Potter's an idiot and you can't stop me. I'm going."

"Master Malfoy! Precious blood will be spilled! Pure blood! Blood that ran through Mistress' veins!" Kreacher wailed.

Draco grabbed the elf by his shoulders. "Your Mistress died a nobody."  
Kreacher let out a shuddering gasp. Draco rallied on, grabbing the chain around Kreacher's neck. "This Master of yours-"

"Master Regulus!" Kreacher cried, his face contorted with misery.

"I'm not _allowed_ to know the details, but I know this much: he was a hero."

Kreacher nodded his head feverishly. "But Master Regulus paid for his chivalry! Dear Master Regulus!"

"Kreacher I can't stay here. You understand don't you?"

Kreacher twisted his head in several different directions, his hands pulling furiously at his ears. "Kreacher understands but Kreacher hates Master Malfoy for it! He is a bad boy!"  
Draco smirked. "Watch the house Kreacher. You're fantastic."

Kreacher opened his mouth but Draco had spun on the spot and vanished with a loud crack. Then the bright kitchen faded into a battlefield.

Young Draco had to hop behind a tapestry to avoid spell-fire that flew towards where he had Apparated. Both he had Draco were stood on what looked like a second floor corridor near Transfiguration. Whatever battle they had appeared in had moved around the corner where angry shouts could be heard. The noise was deafening, among the explosions and shouts, Draco could hear anguished cries and screams. Young Draco, who was really no longer Young Draco as he was only hours younger than himself, was about to move from behind his tapestry when something down the corridor caught his eye. He flattened himself behind it again and watched as Crabbe and Goyle jogged down the corridor, their expressions obstinate.

Both Draco's watched them reach the end of the corridor before following them stealthily, even though Draco knew he was invisible in someone else's memories. They rounded several corners and shoved their way through fleeing crowds of students. Eventually they came to a halt at the bottom of a staircase and hid themselves in a rubble strewn corner. Young Draco lurked further away in a darkened doorway, watching them intently. After a few minutes, Harry appeared on the upper landing, bedraggled and steely, running in a direction only too familiar to Draco.

He was going to the Room of Requirement.

Apparently, Harry was Crabbe and Goyle's target, as they tripped out of their hiding place and ran after him. Both Draco's were hot on their heels and none of the parties seemed to notice they were being tailed. Sure enough, Harry reached the end of the hallway and stopped before the bare stone wall by the tapestry. He closed his eyes and paced feverishly. The door appeared before him in the wall and he burst in immediately. Crabbe and Goyle copied his actions, though it took them twice as long to get the door to appear. Young Draco went in after them, the door appearing for him in seconds. He was well practiced of course. Draco followed him in, his heart racing at this strange twist and the fast pace the memories had taken on.

Mountains of junk towered over him and if he hadn't spent most of his sixth year in here, he would be terrified of being crushed or lost in the trove of hidden items.

"Oi Potter." Goyle spat and Young Draco took out his wand, following the sound of his voice around the corner and watching the two burly boys point their wands at Harry. Apparently, he was wandless, as he stood quite still, clutching only a tiara – of all things.

"Hello." he said cautiously.

"You're coming with us." Crabbe ordered, jabbing his wand into Potter's chest.

"No he isn't."

Harry almost dropped the tiara in surprise and Young Draco appeared from behind a broken music stand, wand trained on his old cronies. They whirled around to look at him.

"Well _hello_ Malfoy." Goyle sneered. "It's about time you came out of hiding isn't it."

"I haven't been _hiding_ Goyle." Draco spat, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Well where have you been then? We all heard about your mother." Crabbe bit.

Draco's hand tightened on his wand. "Don't you dare speak of her-"

Goyle's face twisted into a malicious smirk. "You couldn't even go to her funeral!"

It happened in an instant. In the moment it took for Draco to lunge forward and Harry to shout his name, Crabbe had released the Fiendfyre from his wand. Draco hadn't been surprised in his own past when it had happened. Crabbe used to set fire to insects in the courtyard and he'd almost burnt their entire dormitory to cinders setting off Filibusters Fireworks. Crabbe was clearly a pyromaniac, but the fire he'd now summoned really tipped the scale.

The flames spat viciously and leaped at the hordes of furniture stacked high in the air. Goyle shouted incomprehensibly at Crabbe who waved his wand in a helpless stupor. Harry ran forward and grabbed Young Draco's hand, keeping a fast grip on the tiara. Draco followed them as they ran as fast as they could down the pathway between the stuff that was fast being swallowed by flaming creatures. "What are you doing here?" Harry shouted as they ran.

"Shut up Potter! This is my war as much as it's yours! Just get us out of here!"

A gigantic dragon made of flames snapped it's jaws at their heels, they turned a corner, Young Draco using his wand to knock piles of the junk into the path of the Fiendfyre to slow it down. It was then they ran into Hermione and Ron.

"Harry!" Ron yelped. "What the Hell is happening?"  
"We've got to get out of here!" Harry shouted. "I've got the diadem!"

Granger lurched sideways and grabbed three brooms. "The door's that way! She cried, gesturing to her right and clambering onto her broom. Harry mounted his, pulling Draco roughly by his robes onto the back of it. Ron followed, knocking more stuff into the path of the fast approaching fire.

"We're leaving them?" Draco yelled, wrapping his arms around Potter's waist as Harry kicked off from the ground.

"Draco, they're dead." Harry retorted. They all rose into the air and soared in the direction of the doors. For a horrifying moment, Draco thought he would be left to be swallowed up by the fire. Then he remembered the book Young Draco had thrown through him in one of the fourth year memories. He ran blindly after them, praying his non-solid presence in memories would allow him to escape. He tore through what must have been several piles of objects in blind panic before he stumbled out of the open door. Seconds later, Weasley landed roughly against the opposite wall, Granger hit the floor and broke her broom and Harry fell from his, landing roughly on top of Draco who yelped in pain.

"Throw it in!" Ron shouted to Harry.

Potter grabbed the diadem from the floor and threw it as hard as he could into the fire that was charging at them towards the open doorway. As the tiara hit the flames, it erupted into a furious, fiery face that was none other than Voldemort's. Granger slammed the doors shut before the blazing entity swallowed them whole. Ron swore loudly and Young Draco lay on the floor, coughing and panting.

"Harry?" Granger asked tentatively as Potter seized up, his eyes glazed.

"What's he doing?" Draco spluttered, scrambling up and grabbing Harry's shoulders.

"He's probably in You-Know-Who's head." said Granger.

"Get off him!" Ron snapped as Draco tried to shake Harry into sense.

At that moment, Harry gasped, blinking frantically. His eyes focused on Draco and he grabbed the front of his robes. "What are you doing here?" he roared, slamming Draco into the opposite wall.  
Draco shoved him backwards. "I haven't heard from you for nearly a year! I thought you'd died!"

Harry stumbled. Draco spat on the floor. "I sent Kreacher here every day to see if the Death Eater's had moved in! I've waited in that house for months!" He lashed out at Harry, flailing wildly as Weasley pulled him backwards.

"I'm sorry!" Harry muttered. "I just wanted to keep you safe."

Draco breathed raggedly, tearing himself away from Weasley and leaning his head against the wall. Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione. "We've got to go." He watched Draco as he clutched his side.

"I think you've broken one of my ribs you oaf." he spat.

"I didn't- I didn't mean to..." Harry replied in a tender voice.

Weasley and Granger headed towards the corner of the hallway, their wands out as they checked for danger.

"Harry." Ron said stiffly. "You'd better..."

Granger sighed. "You'd better say your goodbyes. Just in case."

Draco flew towards her madly. "Don't be so ridiculous you stupid Mudblood-!"

"Draco. Please." Harry said his voice heavy. He caught Draco by his hand.  
"No." Draco shook his head frantically. "No way."

"Stay here. Stay hidden. I'll -"  
"NO!" Draco's voice reverberated off the walls and the crumbling ceiling. "I hate you!"

Harry reached a hand out to touch his face but Draco hit it away furiously. "Draco, I'll see you soon."

Draco shook his head. Eyes filled with anguish, Harry leaned towards Draco's lips. Draco stepped backwards, his face contorted with fury. "Go." he spat. "Go on." Harry jogged up the corridor, looking back once he reached Ron and Hermione. "Don't get into trouble Draco. _Please_." Young Draco watched them round the corner and disappear, his face stony and his eyes swimming with hurt. Draco knew he wouldn't listen to Harry's plea.

The corridor liquidized into a blur and a luridly familiar scene appeared. Here was where he was hit by the invisible Weasel and just there, through the Smokey gloom, was his hiding place: the cupboard he began his obscure adventure in. Young Draco, with no desire to hide, exploded through the darkness and ran at the same Death Eater that had rounded on Draco in his past. "Stupefy!" he yelled and the wizard crumpled before he knew what had hit him. Young Draco punched the air in triumph, obviously he had been powering through the castle, making up for lost time.

"You never listen to me do you?" Harry's voice roared and he suddenly appeared from nowhere at the top of the staircase.

"Harry!" Granger hissed from beneath the invisibility cloak, and Draco could just about see her and Weasley's feet under the transparent fabric. Harry tore up the corridor towards Draco who paled for a moment at the force at which Harry was approaching him.  
"Harry-" Draco spluttered before Harry collided with him, clasping his face and kissing him furiously. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's torso and kissed him back, pressing their lips together with ferocious intensity.

"Harry!" Ron called urgently from beneath the invisibility cloak. Draco put his hands on Harry's chest and shoved him backwards resolutely. "Go." he said breathlessly. Harry hesitated a moment before turning on his heel and running back to Ron and Hermione. "I'm ready." he said. Draco watched him disappear beneath the cloak, gulping deep breaths.

Both the crumbled walls and Draco's glowering face rose into the air like smoke, blurring into a haze. A grey sky and a destroyed courtyard took its place, solidifying into a chilling scene.  
"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran way, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof your hero is gone."

The familiar speech went on, and Draco was surrounded by students, Professors, Aurors, Death Eaters as people ran to their sides and took in the news of Harry's demise. Crowds gathered to stare, people gasped and wailed. Someone tore through his middle, startling him. Young Draco stood at the top of the steps, staring down at Harry lying in Hagrid's arms. He let out a whine, barely audible. Granger joined him, holding her hand to her face, trembling all over. Weasley was nowhere to be seen.

Draco's father called out to him, spying him at the top of the steps. "Draco!"

Young Draco ignored him, gazing at Harry, his mouth open. He looked as though he didn't quite believe what he saw; he tilted his head to the side like he was watching Harry sleep. _This couldn't be right_, Draco thought, _Harry had lived_. So why was he laying dead in Hagrid's arms? He had lived through this. Draco had seen him, spoken to him. Longbottom stepped forward, looking as though he was on the verge of collapse. He held the sword of Gryffindor in his hands, the rubies glistening on the golden hilt. "You don't realize, do you?" he began. Voldemort smiled like a shark. "How many people have died today because of you." Neville said his voice unsteady but determined. "Not just today actually. For years. Every life ended every family you tore apart." Voldemort laughed at him, jeering with his Death Eaters. "Laugh if you want, but it ends today. This is the end of your story."

Draco blinked once in the time it took for Neville to raise the sword above his head and bring it down on Nagini, cutting her in two. In that same instant, Harry leaped from Hagrid's arms like a Jack-in-the-box, wonderfully alive. Young Draco took a deep breath and he called Harry's name. "Harry!" he roared. He was running now, his wand held in his hands. He reached the No Man's Land between the two sides and threw his wand towards Harry, who jumped, like the seeker he was, to catch it. Before the wand touched Harry's palm, Voldemort's face had twisted in disgust and he aimed his wand at Draco.

"Avada Kedavra!"


	17. Seventeen

_**17**_

Perhaps if Draco had not been so strong-willed, if he had not cost Voldemort his time and patience, he might have been spared. Voldemort had been undermined however and without a doubt he would keep his promise. _'Prepare yourself for my wrath when we met again, after my victory, where I won't be so forgiving.'_

The screaming green light hit Young Draco square in the chest, and his grey eyes flashed. The world around Draco exploded and he heard a shout, hoarse and filled with pain.

Harry.

His vision exploded in a thousand sights and colours. He smelled familiar scents and heard the voices of people he knew. Through his eyes he saw a scene he remembered from his own past. He laid in bed, tiny and young, his mother sat next to him, reading him Babbity Rabbity's Cackling Stump.

"Get up Draco. Try again." his father said shortly when he fell from his broom the fifth time at nine.

"Happy Birthday darling." his mother whispered, handing him a gift and running her hand through his hair.

Then Harry stood unimpressed before him in Madam Malkin's and his heart thundered in his chest. He was on the Hogwart's Express.

No. Now he was in the Great Hall, the sorting hat on his head.

Then he was flying, racing Harry around the Quidditch pitch in their green robes. The sky a grey and blue canvas stretching around him.

He unwrapped a Christmas present, he argued with Pansy, he snapped at Granger, made rude gestures to Weasley. Harry scolded him, Harry hated him. Then he held him, kissed him, told him he loved him in the darkness of their dormitory in the lost hours of the night.

His eagle owl flew towards him, he ran in his garden at home, he wept in his bed; he lay skin to skin with Harry. His father towered over him and his mother begged him to stay safe. Voldemort burned a mark in his arm and he screamed, his voice becoming a moan as Harry moved in him, whispering sweet words in his ear. He saw his socked feet standing on his balcony at home, looking over the edge to the lawn below.

Snow fell on a clear night on Christmas Eve, the sun burned through his shirt in summer and the leaves on the willow trees whispered to him as Harry pressed his lips against his for the very first time. Then there was fire. Crabbe was dead, Goyle was dead, Granger sobbed to him: Weasley had died. Voldemort laughed in his face, high and cold.

Nott and Blaise did a dance routine through their dormitory that dreary Thursday night and Draco's sides ached with laughter. Dumbledore stood before him at the top of the Astronomy Tower. "You are no killer, Draco." he whispered. Voldemort told him otherwise, hissed in his ear. "Crucio." he cried and an agony like no other tore through his body, crippling him.

He was on his last warning as he ran down the hill. He couldn't go back, he couldn't do it. Harry crushed him. A moon bathed him in its glow. '_Snape has been punished. He has been killed._' his father's letter read. '_McGonagall is slaughtered_.' Kreacher told him, handing him biscuits in bed. Draco fought with Harry, spat venom at him, felt the sting of his words and the blow of his fist colliding against his skin. The letter telling of his mother's death arrived and Harry held him as he sobbed in the attic. He held him again in a corridor on Halloween, torchlight flickering off his glasses as he ran his hand over Draco's skin.

Draco was soothing Harry in the dead of night, chasing away a thousand terrors. He jumped on a sofa in his Manor as a child and his father shouted, then he laughed. He held his wand for the first time, cast his first spell then ran around his room in his Quidditch robes. He stood in front of his mother in his Slytherin uniform and Harry stood before him in his. He pulled it off the boy as he kissed him, running the tie through his hands and letting it slide to the floor.

Nott flicked ink at him in the library, hissing insults. He was in class, looking into Harry's eyes across the room. Harry stared back, his green eyes alive and burning. Snape warned him of the heart break, McGonagall scolded him for his arrogant attitude. Harry laughed at him: Draco was taking him off, swaggering through the corridor.

Pansy called his name, so did his mother, his father, his friends. Granger said his forename stiffly; Weasley greeted almost pleasantly, Harry... Harry called to him, whispered in his ear, cried out to him. Draco was screaming, his vision blurred, a thousand memories leaped at him, vying for his attention as Young Draco's life played before his eyes.

Draco tore away, pulling himself up from the tragedy and wrenched himself from the Pensive, gasping for air. He was crying. Was he crying? He snapped his eyes open and held onto the side of the bowl, his reflection startling him in the mirror above the Pensive. "Draco, it's okay." Harry whispered.

But Harry was dead.

Draco spun around, his eyes burning in the bright light of Dumbledore's office. He held out his hands, disorientated and he felt something cold, like icy mist at his fingertips. "Steady."

Harry stood before him, silvery and transparent.

"Idiot!" Draco gasped. "You came back as a ghost."

Harry glided around the office grinning and Draco had to hold onto the desk for support. It felt as though the scene would dissolve and change at any moment. Dissolve and change. Dissolve and change. "Sit down. I was in a terrible state when I first saw them too." Harry urged.

Draco plonked himself in the Headmaster's old chair and closed his eyes, trying to get his bearings. He could hear the whirring of the trinkets and the sad humming of the books that had tumbled from the bookshelves. He opened his eyes. There was Greyback's body sprawled beneath the mess. There was Harry's in the middle of the room, the sword lain on his chest. "I like what you did there." Harry smirked, nodding at his body. "Laid me out with the sword."

"Oh shut up." Draco sapped, rubbing his forehead.

Harry, a wicked glint in his eyes, hovered in front of the desk.

"Why in Merlin's name did you come back as a ghost Potter? Did you really think you were that important?"

"I needed to talk to you-"

"You absolute - !" Draco lunged forward over the desk but his hands flew through the chilling nothingness that Harry was made of.

Harry chortled at him. "Besides," he continued. "I won't be here long."

"I think you'll find you'll be here for eternity." Draco snapped. "That's what being a ghost often entails."

"Not if you go back and stop yourself from changing the past."

Draco knuckled his eyes. Images of Young Draco and Harry flared in his mind. The seven years he had watched play out, all the people he'd seen laughing and suffering. It was beyond confounding.

"It's not good for you, watching it all." Harry explained. "I used to wear the chain around my neck and watch it over and over whenever I had the chance. Then Hermione warned me it wasn't healthy-so I put it up here."

"Didn't stop you from watching it though."

"Of course not."

Draco observed Harry as he stared at the swirling memories in the bowl. "It's like a sad film isn't it?" Potter said bitterly.

"Film?" Draco asked. It sounded vaguely Muggle.

"Or book." Harry added, heading towards the desk and trying to pick up the flying book that had rested there. His hand fell through it however, and the book shuddered, taking flight and crossing the room. Draco recalled the book he had taken from his mother's bookshelf when he was fourteen: a tragedy about a witch, who suffered greatly, travelled far and lost her lover. In the end she had thrown herself from a cliff top to join him and escape her horrific life. Draco had read the entire thing, cover-to-cover under wand-light in his bed and shamefully wept over his sheets into the early hours of the morning. He had gone to breakfast the next day with puffy eyes and brushed off his mother's concern with a lie about an allergic reaction to the flowers at the table.

"What happened once he had died?" Draco asked, thinking of Harry's roar of grief in the Pensive when Young Draco was hit.

"Total pandemonium. I had been planning to run, but with Draco's wand and having just watched Voldemort kill him, I attacked him right there."  
"Foolish."

"Yeah, maybe. I got lucky though. Merlin knows how. There were spells flying everywhere and it's a wonder no one else died. Half the Death Eater's ran for it and your father was howling on the floor. Most people sort of stopped fighting then. Everyone had seen enough."

"What happened to Weasley?" Draco asked, uncomfortable at the thought of his father truly broken.

"Shot down when we were running to the lake." Harry replied flatly. "Just like that."

Draco leaned back in the chair, his head swimming. If it weren't for the adrenaline still thundering through his body, he would have collapsed by now for certain.

"Fred died too. As did Ginny, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Seamus-"

"Merlin Potter." Draco had never liked any of the Weasels, especially not the girl (For obvious reasons) but he wouldn't wish them dead. Those twins had caused Filch almost as much misery as Peeves had, and that had appeased Draco greatly. The Weaselette had been an extraordinary Quidditch player, Nott had been his friend, Crabbe and Goyle had followed him faithfully for seven years and Seamus? Aside from being a loud mouthed, Irish Gryffindor, Draco had always admired his unflappable ability to blow things up with his erratic magic.

"This was never meant to happen." Harry said desperately, hovering in front of Draco.

Draco took his hands away from his face and watched Potter for a moment. He was taking this all in his stride: his death, half his life being changed by Draco's meddlesome actions, the loss of his friends. "You should be in pieces." he snapped.

Harry laughed bitterly. "Yeah, that was the next stage of the plan." he said, floating over to Greyback and peering at his crumpled body. "Then you showed up, and offered us a second chance."

"And you don't mind me wiping out everything you and Young Draco ever had?"

"Young Draco?"

Draco felt his cheeks burn slightly. "I've been referring to him as that before you came about in your Slytherin uniform with your scathing comments."

Harry smiled. "It doesn't matter. You won't forget what you've seen. That's what's important."  
Shaking his head, Draco stood up. "Shouldn't you speak to Granger about this or something?"

"Oh of course, and she can come and see my dead body and add my name to the list of people she's lost. No, you're doing this Draco. You meddled in the past, people have died unnecessarily and none of it was ever meant to be."

"Not even-?"

"No." Harry cut in. "Not even Draco and I."

Thinking about it, it made sense. His Time turner was a disgustingly twisted dark object that could cause total devastation. What the hell was he thinking? He'd wanted to stop Harry from dying and the first thing he'd thought of was to change the past with dark magic. Very rational. Suddenly, the wand lit in his head and his heart leaped feverishly.

"You weren't dead!" he gasped.

Harry's face broke into a magnificent smile. "Took you long enough!"

"Merlin Potter you weren't dead!" Draco yelled. "I could kiss you!"

"It wouldn't be a pleasant experience for you but I wouldn't say no." Harry said coyly as Draco ignored him, pacing in a circle, collecting his thoughts.

"So, if I...If I went back..."

"I wouldn't be dead. I'd still be protected. I'd be pretending, and doing a very convincing job of it too."

Draco was growing rather fond of this Slytherin Harry. "You clever little-"

"It was actually your father who checked to see if I was alive when I was. For a moment I thought I was really for it – this time – but he sat there for an age, really quiet until Voldemort shouted at him. Then he said I was dead."

"He lied?"

"Lied to his Dark Lord."

Draco almost had to sit down again. He felt some sort of faith being restored in his parents. Oh Merlin, don't let them be dead. "I'm going back."

"I know you are." Harry replied.

It took longer than was really needed for Draco to collect the memories in the vial and put them around his neck on its chain along with the Time turner. "I don't want them to die with me." Harry had argued. "Besides, if you show them to your Harry he may forgive you for all your wrongs."

Upon hearing this last remark, Draco had refused to take the memories and had only relented when Harry had repeatedly walked through him several times, sending hideous chills through his body.

"Alright I'll take them." Draco snapped, holding the vial between his fingertips and secretly agreeing they should never, ever be lost.

"Now you go back." Harry said when Draco really had procrastinated as much as he could.

"Fine. I'm ready." Draco muttered.

"You don't have to be afraid of this Draco. Running from your problems doesn't solve anything."

"Spare me the lecture Potter." Draco snapped before realizing how like Young Draco he sounded.

Harry smirked fondly, his eyes glazing. "If I was still alive, I'd be sorely tempted to lock you away forever and keep you."

"I'd have liked to see you try." Draco retorted, knowing he would have put up a poor fight. Though really, it wasn't meant to be. Harry was right.

"So you'll need to go back to the train, stop the past you from casting an Imperius on 'Young Draco' and then return to your cupboard before the time runs out."

"Won't that mean I'll return to my time with a copy of myself?"

"I wouldn't think so. Your Time turner seems to allow for altering the past with no consequence."  
Draco nodded and sighed. "I could do it from here...Right now."

Harry waited.

"I think I might have left something somewhere or-"

"Draco please."

Defeated, Draco slowly took the Time turner from his robes. "Seen as you're about to be wiped into nothingness," he spat resentfully. "If you hadn't have been impaled on that bloody sword and died, I'd have stayed here with you forever."

"Good thing he came along then and made the decision for us."

Draco wanted to stamp his foot and demand his own way. Unfortunately for him, life was not like that, and he would have to right his own wrongs.

"I'm glad you came." Harry whispered, his hand reaching out to touch Draco's face. Though it felt like an icy sheet against his skin, Draco closed his eyes and stood still. Back to the world where he was hated he would go, but he'd never forget the world that wasn't meant to be.

Draco kept his eyes closed when Harry's hand fell away and began to turn the hourglass on it's chain. A spin for each year as he mentally recited the complex spell he had been taught. As he twisted the hourglass for the seventh time, as slow as he dared, he opened his eyes and looked at Harry. Ghostly grey but as beautiful as he'd always been, he was staring at Draco with eyes filled with sadness and fear. Draco looked at the boy in his Slytherin robes and realized he'd always he Potter, no matter what house he was in. He completed the turn and Harry was gone.

He had landed on the shuddering floor of the Hogwarts Express.

"What the-"

Draco's past self had opened the toilet door he had just concealed himself in and gaped at Draco. A compartment door slid open and Draco threw himself into the toilet and slammed the door, praying Young Draco had not seen him. "Who the f-"

"Careful." Draco snapped, turning around to glare at his past self. He would call him Past Draco, and he wasn't particularly fond of him. Past Draco looked very much the same as he did: bedraggled, covered in blood and wounds. Yet Past Draco was distinctly more shocked and his mouth hung open. "You look most unattractive like that." Draco bit.  
Past Draco closed his mouth. "Where the hell did you come from?"  
"The future, the present, the past. I don't bloody know anymore." Draco sighed. "More importantly, didn't anyone ever tell you not to mess with time?"

"No." Past Draco retorted. "My father encouraged it."

"Yeah, he would." Draco said.

"Do you mind? I'm out there – as an eleven year old terror – ruining the future." Past Draco snapped, holding out his wand and trying to pass Draco.

"No." Draco said firmly, pushing him back into a sitting position on the toilet seat. "You're out there making history. Just sit tight and shut up. I've seen what happens and it's a mess. I've come back to right it...Again."

Past Draco chewed this over for a moment. "How do I know I can trust you?"

Draco snatched the wand he held in his hand and held it against him. "I'm not giving you any choice."  
They stayed like that for the rest of the journey. Past Draco occasionally inquiring about a detail or asking for an explanation and Draco providing both fairly willingly.

"What's going to happen to me when we get back?" Past Draco demanded.

"I'm hoping you'll vanish."

Past Draco opened his mouth to begin what would clearly be a very furious tirade but the train was suddenly slowing.

"Save it." Draco said quickly. "We have to get back to that bloody cupboard."

Sneaking from the train and up to the castle gates was considerably harder with his double tailing him in a frightful pout. Draco pulled him into the bushes just as the last wagon rattled past. "Stop being so difficult." Draco hissed.

"How dare you -" But no sooner had Past Draco began to retort, a familiar Thestral had nudged his hand and he let out a terrified squawk.

"Shut up!" Draco snapped. "You'll scare it."  
Past Draco looked at Draco like he was a lunatic as he ran his and down the Thestral's nose, murmuring to it in a friendly voice. "Okay." Draco began. "Now get on."

"_What_?"

Draco was secretly delighted that he could ride the Thestral again. It was just as exhilarating as it had been however many hours or years ago it was when he did it last. Past Draco clung to him reluctantly, still in a towering temper. "Oh lighten up!" Draco cried to him. "This is bloody magical!" Draco reached his fingers out to trace the stars again and whooped uncharacteristically as the Thestral swooped to the ground, landing with a run.

"That was hideous." Past Draco muttered.

"Don't lie." Draco sneered, hurrying towards the doors and pulling Past Draco in his wake. "I was you at one point, remember?"

Past Draco said nothing as they both ran up the staircases, panting in unison. The world was already falling apart and Draco was about to shout at Past Draco for slowing down when he realized he was too. This wasn't good, Draco thought darkly as his own vision blurred. It was as though he was wading through one of Potter's treacle tarts and he could only just see the cupboard. How awful would it be if he never even got back and he was swallowed up in time? No way. It couldn't happen.  
Powering forward with all the strength he possessed within him, Draco let out a cry of endeavour as the only thing clear to him was the door of the cupboard...the handle...an inch away. Past Draco was next to him, his hand outstretched too. Their hands touched the handle simultaneously and they entered, feeling as though they were walking against a force field. Before Draco had the chance to apologize to Past Draco or even look at him, the world snapped into focus around him and he stood in the cupboard – alone.


	18. Eighteen

_**18**_

The first sound he heard was his mother's voice in the distance outside. "Draco!" she cried, her voice broken in distress.

"I'm coming." Draco gasped. "I'm alive and I'm coming."

His hand tore into his robes and pulled out his wand. He opened the door of the cupboard, the light of dawn blinding him as it poured through the gaping holes in Hogwart's castle. Dust and cries of anguish filled the air and Draco ran, hurdling over rubble in his path. The main doors drew closer and he very nearly fell through a broken staircase as he ran, but his feet were barely touching the floor, he was leaping like a silvery Patronus...perhaps even a doe.

The first sight that met his eyes when he exploded through the main doors was the sheer mass of people. Everyone had already crowded in the courtyard to see Harry's body and meet their fate. People glared at him scathingly as he pushed through the crowd. He didn't care. He knew who he was and what he'd done. He hadn't forgotten. He never would.  
"Draco!" his mother cried in relief.

"Ahh." said a high cold voice, filled with lordliness and pride. "See Narcissa, Draco is not lost."

Voldemort's words often caused Draco to freeze on the spot with terror and revulsion, but not today. Today he pushed forward, letting them all believe he was running to his mother.

What happened next however, very nearly did stop him in his tracks. Neville took the opportunity to step forward and swing his sword at Nagini, and even though Draco had watched it play out before, it was still a novelty to see Longbottom literally save the day. Then it was Potter's turn to shock the gathering as he leaped from Hagrid's arms. Draco knew what to do now. He had reached the front of the crowd and as he elbowed the Thomas boy out of his way, he felt no fear.

His heart seemed to slow in his chest as he ran, one stride, two strides, and Voldemort blinked in confusion. Three strides and Harry was staring at him in bewilderment as he powered towards him. He was a few metres away now and as he took his fourth stride, he called his name. "Potter!"

Dear Merlin it sounded wrong said without venom, Draco thought absently as a blinding light powered towards him and hit him square in the chest.

_So this was the afterlife?_

Draco stared around at the open forest before him. It was beautiful here; the light filtered through the canopy of trees and fell onto the ground below. Branches whispered to each other and the air smelt of pine. He was sat astride a Thestral, which was actually quite odd. Just as he was wondering if he was entirely comfortable with the situation, Hagrid appeared from between the trees. "Have yeh seen Fang?" he asked. "Only he went teh Hogsmede with Dumbledore and he ain't back yet."

"I was with him yesterday." Draco found himself replying. He most certainly was not. "I found him very charming. He must have quite the social life." Now Draco had a few questions he wanted answering. Firstly, what sort of afterlife was this? And secondly, shouldn't he be in hell or at least under some sort of trial?

When the Thestral beneath him transformed into a frothing Hippogriff he was more concerned with his life which he had apparently already lost. This seemed entirely unfair.

"Help me you half bred oaf!" Draco cried as the Hippogriff bucked and reared furiously. He hoped it wasn't a trial because he'd probably just failed it.

"Can't sorry. Gotta go get Harry and Ron outta that tree over there."

"What's Potter doing in a bloody tree?" Draco demanded. The forest was a bit too bright now. The Hippogriff kicked him high into the air and he landed with a thump on the ground, jolting into consciousness and opening his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing in a tree?" Draco yelled at Harry's face which was less than thirty centimetres away from his own.

It was seconds before Draco registered he was lying down in a camp-bed with Harry leaning over him. Harry was frozen awkwardly and it was another second before Draco saw he had pulled the Time turner and the vial of memories from beneath his robes and had been scrutinizing them. Draco shot upwards, slapping Harry's face.

"Ahh!" Harry gasped. Draco dragged in deep shuddering breaths, looking around wildly.

"Where am I?" he demanded.

"In the hospital wing. It's okay." Harry replied. "And I'm not in a tree."

"I'm alive?"

Harry nodded. "Very."

"Where are my parents?"

Harry leaned back against the wall next to the bed and ran his hand over the pink mark that had appeared on his cheek. "That was quite a slap Malfoy. I thought we'd fought it all out already."

"Answer me!" Draco yelled.

"Calm down! It's fine. Your parents are under arrest but they're both alive. Your mother shot you with a stunning spell. I think it was to stop you making yourself a target."

Draco drank the information in hungrily. His parents were okay. His mother had saved his life. "She saved me."

"Me too. You know she could have told Voldemort I was alive in the forest but she didn't? She wanted to know if you were alive so she gave me my life while I gave her the good news."

Draco stared at Harry with an open mouth. Harry was scruffy-looking with a face full of stubble. He looked distinctly Potteresque. Draco flopped back down onto the pillows, physically and emotionally drained. "He's dead?"

"Voldemort's dead." Harry confirmed. There was silence for a while as Draco closed his eyes and caught up with the information. Harry interrupted his thoughts. "What's the Time turner all about? It looks messed with."

"It's _very _messed with Potter."  
"They want to speak to you – the Aurors – when you're awake. I won't get them until you're ready though."

Draco bristled. "Don't be kind to me -"  
"Says the boy who just about saved my life."

"I didn't. You'd have survived anyway. You always do."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. You still did it though."

Draco ignored him for a while, his hand coming up to twist the chains around his neck.

"They'll confiscate that Time turner."  
"Oh I don't bloody care." Draco spat, ripping it over his head and tossing it in Harry's lap. "I hope they incinerate it."

"What about those memories?" Harry added quietly.

"How do you know they're memories?" Draco hissed, eying Harry cautiously.

"I've seen memories before Malfoy. They'll probably take those away from you too."

Draco sat up again, frantic. "No they can't!"

"Shut up!" Harry hissed warningly, shoving him back again with surprising strength. Footsteps approached the curtains pulled around Draco's bed. Harry put his finger to his lips and wrenched at the chain holding the vial around Draco's neck. It snapped and Harry tipped it into his pocket, just as Madame Pomphrey opened the curtains.

"Very brave show Mr Malfoy." she said, her eyes heavy with sadness. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Draco replied, his eyes narrowed at Harry who stood looking nonchalant, swinging the Time turner. Draco's eyes slid down to the pocket where Young Draco's memories were concealed. Harry watched him, caught his eye and smiled. What a weirdo.

"The Aurors will want to speak to you now dear." Madame Pomphrey sighed after she had checked Draco's temperature.

Draco sat up; he wouldn't be cowed lying down.

The Aurors surprised him by leaving almost as fast as they'd arrived. Draco supposed there were _far_ worse Death Eaters to contend with than him. They did however; give him a rather undignified lecture. He was forewarned that his house – as it had been 'Death Eater Central' – would be undergoing a thorough search almost immediately. They told him he would be put on trial; they informed him Harry had offered to speak on his part. Draco had glared at Potter. Harry had pretended to look at the Time turner.

The nicer Auror had added that this meant he was virtually free though he'd come away with his pockets considerably lighter. The sterner Auror reminded him he had taken part in crime and Death Eater activity. A small debate had then broken out between the two Aurors as they argued Draco's case until Potter had interjected that Draco's trial was not today. Then he had handed them the Time turner and told them it was given to Draco by his father and it should probably be destroyed. They left, still bickering.

"You've just put another black mark against my father's name." Draco muttered once they'd gone.

"I don't owe your father anything." Harry retorted.

"You don't owe me anything either!" Draco spat, regretting it immediately. Without Harry speaking for him in his trial, he could go to Azkaban. Though maybe he deserved it.

Undeterred, Harry grinned. "Of course I don't." he smiled, wandering out of the Hospital Wing and waving to Draco as he went.

It was a further two minutes before Draco realized he had slunk off with the memories. Draco didn't doubt for a moment he had done it on purpose. Currently, he didn't care. He hadn't washed or eaten in about fourteen years.


	19. Nineteen

_**19**_

Draco discharged himself from the hospital. A far cry from his younger days when he would outstay his welcome so as to bask in attention and indulge in his injuries. Madame Pomphrey seemed far busier however, tending to those who had been fighting in the battle, not hiding in cupboards. Draco slunk way, feeling considerably lighter without the Time turner and memories around his neck. His stomach grumbled at him furiously and his head ached from dehydration. He also smelled very unattractive.

As he wandered down through Hogwart's grounds, it struck him that this might be the last time he saw his school - unless he returned to repeat his seventh year that is. Somehow, he couldn't see that happening. It was likely only Granger would, and she had the excuse that she'd been on a year long quest to bring Voldemort down, where as Draco had merely been hanging out with him.

He turned around to look at his Hogwarts, half his home. It was smoking, crumbled, destroyed, but Draco still felt a thousand memories of his own rush through him. Good and bad. It hadn't really ever gone to the dogs, he admitted o himself. He found he didn't regret rubbing Harry up the wrong way on their first and second meeting (and every other after that) ... he couldn't imagine seven years of being friends with Harry. As much as he harboured secret feelings for the git he was content with the long years of hell he had brought him.

A warm breeze fluttered through the grass, carrying familiar scents and bringing a welcome wave of nostalgia. Draco pandered in it for a moment before turning around and leaving through the school gates. As soon as he was on the open path to Hogsmede, he turned on his heel with firm thoughts of home.

Unsurprisingly, he found he was not alone. The breathtaking vales and hills that rolled around his manor were a welcome sight. The swarm of Ministry Officials, scouting through his garden and home were not.

"Get him!" a young official yelped, pointing at Draco in breathless excitement as he sauntered up the path. He gave him a challenging look, daring him to lay so much as a finger on him.

"No Stevens, he's been spoken to. I told you we're looking for bigger fish than that." his supervisor told him with a strained voice of patience. The junior nodded and continued to feel around in the Hedgerow. Apparently the 'bigger fish' were hiding in the Malfoy shrubbery.

Draco opened his front door with a tap of his wand on the heavy wood and crossed the threshold, sighing irritably when a dozen officials met him with their wands outstretched, muttering in disappointment when they saw who it was.

"You won't get anyone worth catching if you expect them to wander through the front door." Draco bit. He marched up the spiralling staircase, upwards and upwards towards his room where he shoved open the door and manhandled the wizard snooping through his drawers out of it.

"Master!" squeaked the House Elf, Grendle, who had been hopping up and down on the bed anxiously. He was ridiculously small but obeyed blindly, unlike their old house elf, Dobby.

"Please get me something to eat and drink." Draco sighed, rubbing his head. "I'm famished."

"Famished!" Grendle repeated and nodded obediently. Sometimes Draco wondered if his father had chosen the new house elf because of his considerable lack of intelligence.

Grendle vanished with a crack and Draco pushed open the door of his en suite, his skin crawling with the need to wash. He let the water run hot before he locked the door, in case someone thought he was hiding Death Eaters in his bathroom, and tried to get in. The water that ran off him was filthy and bloody, but Draco stopped looking at it after a while and let his eyes close. He thought back to the events he had witnessed, caused, participated in. Honestly, it was enough to send you to sleep on the spot. There was a crack as Grendle reappeared in the bedroom. "Is Master wanting Grendle to bring food into the washroom?" said a squeaky voice through the door.

"No Grendle." Draco replied tiredly.

Draco barely had the energy to eat and drink what was put before him but seen as he was half starved and only Grendle was there to see, he ate like a pig. No sooner had Grendle taken away the tray, ("Is Master wanting pajamas now?" "I'm already wearing them Grendle.") Draco let his head hit the pillow and he fell into an instant sleep.

For two weeks, Draco made rounds of his manor, helping Grendle clean ("Master must not wear down his beautiful hands!" "You really think their beautiful?") and disposing of all the twisted objects the Ministry had missed. They may run the Wizarding world, but Malfoys had been dealing in Dark Arts for a long time – they knew how to fool the prying. After his adventures, Draco saw no use for the jewel encrusted bangle that cut off your blood supply, the urn that let out wails of wizards and witches burnt at the stake or the sword that trembled in it's bracket when it felt the throbbing of a human pulse nearby. Grendle obediently followed his every instruction, dotingly bagging up dark objects in sacks and polishing his father's desk every day, even though he wasn't there to write at it.

A week in to his 'recovery' so to speak, he finally raised the courage to pick up a Daily Prophet and read through a long list of the dead, arrested, awaiting trial and even withstood a short interview from Harry who, by the looks of it, had had his words twisted excruciatingly. "_I'm just so super happy this has come to an end!"_ They had quoted him."_I'm glad I could have been your hero, and I never ever doubted the Ministry! Not once!"_

Draco had instructed Grendle to polish the bust of his Great Uncle before tucking the paper under his arm and walking calmly up the stairs to his room. Once there, he had sat on his bed and wept over the Prophet, blotting its inky pages as he ran his fingers down the list of departed. He hovered over the names he knew and before long, he could take it no more and he threw the paper across the room.

On the thirteenth day, he was saved from madness. He had been dusting the bookshelves in the drawing room at the time, trying to persuade himself that he was still quite sane and coping extremely well thank you very much.

"Grendle, do we have any alcohol in the pantry?" Draco had inquired after wiping nonexistent dust from the cover of his mother's favourite book. Grendle was about to reply when a bell tolled and Draco's stomach dropped. It was the sound of someone at the gates and a sound he associated with visiting Death Eaters and Catchers and Potter's with swollen faces. Peering out of the window anxiously, Draco caught Grendle by the back of his pillowcase as he bounded towards the front door. "Wait." he hissed.  
"But Master it is an owl for you!"

Draco squinted and saw that a figure was not standing at the gates, but a greyish, official-looking owl with a stern expression. It was carrying an envelope.  
"Grendle get it quickly!"

Watching Grendle trip down the path, Draco wrung his hands anxiously. Only owls from Official companies were taught to knock at the gates of manors. Informal owls usually tapped at the window of the room the recipient was occupying. Grendle skipped up the path again with the letter in his hand and Draco ran to the front door and snatched it from him.

His name was typed on the front in unfamiliar print, but when he tore open the envelope and pulled out the grey parchment, he saw the long-familiar, looping handwriting of his mother's. His breath caught in his throat.

_**Dearest Draco,  
I must first apologize for stunning you, but that was an incredibly foolish stunt you pulled and you almost had yourself killed. Most importantly however, they bring me news that you are well and not under arrest. Your father and I have been spoken to – rather severely if I might add – but we are soon to be released.  
I have also heard news that Potter will speak for you in your trial and I was informed only today that he will speak for me in mine. The same cannot be said for your father but that does not come as a surprise. Fortunately, your father and I will be home within a week and we expect the Manor spotless and prepared. Azkaban is not what it was, but it does not make a welcoming abode for a Malfoy.  
Your father wishes you well and wants you to expect considerably less for a few Christmases and Birthdays as we will be fined 'something rotten' for our actions. Don't concern yourself with this darling – we'll manage – we always have. Allow yourself some time to recuperate and set a good example to the outside world. Let them think you are humble and remorseful.  
All my love,  
Mother.  
P.s- Your father would like to express his regret at giving you the Time turner. The Aurors spoke to him about it and he may face considerably more consequences because of this. I am delighted you didn't need to use it however and there's no harm done.**_

No harm done, Draco thought, staring at the three words. If only you knew. He chose not to dwell on it and ordered Grendle to keep his parent's room especially immaculate for his their return. He would burn their favourite candles in there and organize a banquet with his father's favourite wine and his mother's favourite cakes. Spirits considerably higher, Draco held the letter tightly for a moment before stowing it in his pocket.

It was two weeks after his return home that he awoke wrapped in some sort of home-made chrysalis. Grendle had apparently rolled him the duvet around him like pastry in the night, something he had taken to doing when he thought Draco was feeling dispirited. At least his heart was in the right place, Draco thought as he looked at the sky outside his window pane. He had awoken at dawn for some reason, and the sky outside his window was a shade of Forget-Me-Not blue.

A moment later, he registered the shape at his window and it became clear why he had awoken. There was a tap-tap at his window as a tiny, brown owl peered in at him with the most doleful eyes Draco had ever seen. An informal owl. He disentangled himself from the rolls of blankets and went to the window, opening it carefully to let the little owl hop inside with an envelope in its beak. Draco took the letter and stared at the owl for a while, who looked up at him with its lamenting eyes.

"You're bloody gorgeous." Draco whispered against his own constraint. If it weren't for the rest of his dignity, he'd have picked up the owl and squashed it against his chest like a little girl with a puppy. He looked down at the envelope.

_'Draco'_ it read on the front in a eerily familiar scrawl.

He opened it carefully, taking out the scrap of parchment within.

**Hello.  
I looked at the memories without asking. Obviously. I have a habit of doing things like that. I managed to put two and two together and I suppose you went back and meddled in time with that messed up Time turner. Don't worry, I won't tell, but you need to take a time out from dark, magical objects. I've got your memories here if you want them back. Meet me at 12 Grimmald Place today, late afternoon.  
Harry.**

That bastard! Perhaps Draco was busy today! First he thieved Draco's property and then he ordered Draco to collect it on his own terms! The owl jumped onto Draco's shoulder and settled itself there. Well it was more than welcome. Draco could take other people's property too. "I hope you like biscuits." Draco murmured to the owl.

It turned out the owl did like biscuits. Draco would have happily spent the day breaking them up and scattering them on the kitchen table top for the owl to hop towards them happily, filling its beak and making appreciative hooting noises. Unfortunately, breakfast and lunch and passed and Potter was waiting in '12 Grimmald place' with stolen property, and he had to go and get ready to meet the git. He would have much rather wittered the rest of his day away, hiding in the kitchen with an owl that wasn't his, but he knew that would be admitting defeat.

He brought Grendle and the owl up with him, asking them what they thought as he dressed. Anything was better than thinking of his parents in jail and the fallen in the war.

"Master looks very groomed!" Grendle cried. "He will win the heart of his date!"

"Grendle!" Draco cried scandalously. "I'm not going on a date!"

"Okay Master." Grendle replied absently, patting the tiny owl and swinging his legs on the bed. The owl hooted in a knowing way and Draco decided its guiltless eyes were deceiving.

"What makes you think it's a date?" Draco demanded.

Grendle blinked at him. "Master is changing from his loveliest robes into even lovelier ones!"

Now Draco was the one who looked stupid, and he was in a room with a mentally lacking House Elf and a stunted owl.

Draco stood in his fireplace with the owl on his shoulder and glowered at Grendle. He still wasn't happy with his offhand comments. Date indeed. Of course he had always held a torch for the four-eyed boy hero but it certainly wasn't Grendle's place to comment on such things.

"You can wash my pajamas again." Draco spat. "And clean out the Peacock shed."

Grendle's eyes shone happily. "Master is too kind!"

Of course a House Elf would think of manual labour as a gift. Leave him to it; Draco thought bitterly, maybe one of the Peacocks would peck him or something.  
"12 Grimmald Place." Draco said.

Owls did not like travelling by Floo.

"Merlin's left buttock!" Draco spat, tripping into a room he wasn't even looking at as the owl hooted indignantly and flapped into the room, having just tussled with him in the spinning green flames and tried to tear out one of Draco's eyes.

"Eugh." Draco said, looking up to see a Potter-shaped silhouette in the doorway.

"There you are!" Harry said fondly in a low purr, and for a moment Draco thought he was talking to him. The sugary tones however, were reserved for his owl, which sat on his shoulder and nipped his ear affectionately. "What did Malfoy do to you?" Potter cooed. Draco flattened his hair furiously and scowled.

"You ought to control that bloody thing."

"_His_ name is Toby." Harry retorted, watching Draco as he ran his fingers over the down on Toby's back. "You never had much luck with animals did you?"

"Toby?" Draco spat. "That's an atrocious name."

Harry laughed as Toby flapped out of the room, tiring of the complex emotions of his human companions. "What would you suggest Malfoy? A constellation?"

Draco ignored him and peered around the room. "I've seen this place."

"In the memories?"

A wave of humiliation suddenly crashed over him. Potter had seen everything he had seen in that Pensive. Everything. He marched up to Potter and slapped his face."You had no right looking at them."

"Enough with the bloody slapping!" Harry cried his hand to his face. "I couldn't help myself, okay?"

"No it is _not_ okay!" Draco snapped. "You saw me naked you pervert!"

Harry grinned. "You saw me naked too. You saw a lot of things you shouldn't have. A lot of activities..." he paused for a moment. "Draco, your cheeks are very pink."

"Oh shut up!" Draco snapped. "And call me Malfoy!"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Malfoy? Mr Malfoy? Or maybe Lord Malfoy the Second?"

Draco rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation before holding out his hand. "Give them back you interfering twat."

"No need for bad language Malfoy." Potter frowned. "They're in the kitchen."

Draco followed Harry from the room in stony silence. He had seen this house. He had been here in another branch of time as an invisible presence. This place however, had a stamp of something distinctly Potter on it. Frames of friends and faces that Potter once knew had been mounted on the wall, frightfully colourful shanty rugs had been thrown on the floor, pot plants grew untamed in corners and when they got into the kitchen, a finger painting was spell-o-taped on the wall.

"Who did that?" Draco demanded, staring at the mess of colours splattered on the page.

"Teddy Lupin." Harry replied frostily, "A relation of yours I believe?"

Draco didn't want to talk about that at the moment. When he did, it certainly wouldn't be with Potter. He turned round to examine the rest of the room and saw a tea set lain out at the end of the long stretch of kitchen table. A white candle burned in the centre of the spread and a vase had been filled with a fat bunch of dandelions. Tea for two. It certainly looked very cozy.

"Made an effort have we?" Draco sneered, raising an eyebrow. Harry turned around and spluttered.

"Oh for - Kreacher!" He scrambled over to the end of the table and blew out the candle. "Kreacher's really excited-" Potter babbled, scooping up the dandelions and shook his head. "I told him you were coming and – Oh my God he's made biscuits."

Draco wandered over to the spread and looked at the biscuits iced with things such as _Grand Malfoy_ and _Beautiful Malfoy._

"I rather think I approve." Draco smirked. Harry snatched them away and put them on the worktop, fumbling with the crockery and slamming a teapot with a hideous knitted cozy on it onto the draining board, sloshing tea everywhere.

"What is that?" Draco snorted, picking at the dilapidated pile of yarn. "A Weasley creation no doubt. Has Mother Weasel grown tired of knitting for her many children and started making jumpers for crockery?"

"Choose your next words carefully Malfoy or you'll be going home with those memories up your arse."

"I hardly think that's appropriate Potter."

Harry blushed, his cheeks burning as scarlet as the woollen pattern woven on the cozy. Draco didn't even mind the stupid thing anyway. It was everything Potter. Draco noticed Harry still had the bunch of dandelions in his hand. "Are they for me?" he teased, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Shut up." Harry muttered, throwing them in the sink and reaching into the pocket of his silly muggle jumper. He brought out the memories, swimming silver in the vial on its delicate chain. Draco took it from him and tucked it away in his own robes, wondering how seven years could fit into such a small space. "Thank you."

Harry looked at the floor, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he thought. Draco noticed he wasn't wearing shoes and brooms flew all over his socks. Honestly.

"You know," Harry began. "I had a nightmare once,"

"You had plenty from what I've seen."

Harry ignored him. "I dreamed that I should have been in Slytherin, that it was my destiny."

The light in the kitchen was warm and soft and Draco wondered how Harry had managed to make this Pureblood house so very homely. Potter was looking at the dandelions in the sink, his brow furrowed.

"I think we've established that you were _never_ meant to be in Slytherin Potter." Draco said quietly.

Harry looked at him, his green eyes contemplative. It was different from this angle, Draco thought. With Potter's eyes looking directly into his. Harry laughed and Draco wasn't sure why, because all he could see was Harry. Nodding with a smile on his lips, as though he had reached some sort of humorous conclusion, Potter reached into the sink and took out a dandelion. He edged forward and put it in the buttonhole of Draco's shirt. "Dashing Malfoy." he murmured. "I think that was on one of the biscuits."

Draco wanted to laugh – he really did – but Harry's face was too close. Harry was looking into his eyes, searching for something. He was searching for the same thing Draco was and it took minutes of drowning in the green of Harry's eyes as Harry drowned in the grey of his before he realized he wouldn't find it. They didn't know each other; they had nothing to draw on. Memories had to be made.

With this in mind, Draco reached into the sink and pulled out another garishly yellow dandelion. He tucked it behind Harry's ear and leaned forward. He hovered for a moment in the electricity of the second, before he pressed his lips, very tenderly, against Harry's.

Harry could have hit him, but Draco didn't think he would. Instead, his hand came up, unsurprisingly, to the side of Draco's face and he moved his lips against Draco's so softly it was barely a kiss. The branches of the willow tree didn't whisper and he was old enough to know that it wasn't his happy ending.

But it was there, with a dandelion in his shirt as he kissed Potter with flying brooms on his socks, next to the Weasley tea cozy that was the most lovable eyesore he'd ever come across, that Draco began his true adventure.

_**Finite Incantatem**_

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Thank you for reading and please leave me a review letting me know what you thought and how you think I can improve :D

(and what possessed me to start with a time travel fic I'll never know)


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